#I swear I didn't forget about that fic. One week before I get a free week from work so yk I might try writing something

[bnhatrashsideblog]

Omg I don't know about you guys but sometimes when I think of a specific scene or moment I lowkey act the way it should go and it brings me so much pain/hapiness/despair/depends which scene I do and at the end I'm all like,,, gosh I wanna write that down so bad is so good omgvwgdhsbjsjs

Earlier I was thinking about the sport festival and that fight against Bakugou and Todoroki and somehow started acting as I was thinking and, yk, turning and moving and doing all the moves I had in mind for Bakugo and and idk man I was no longer me but Bakugou fighting Todoroki yk and holding him by the jacket and yelling at him to "Fight me with all you got! I can't win like this! I have to... to prove him..." and then I'm literally falling on the couch and I open my eyes and ausgejdjurueus I WANT TO WRITE THAT OMG IS LIVING RENT FREE IN MY MIND RN IS SO GOOD AND RAW AND AHHH

[earthtooz]

BABE I HAD AN IDEA- Reo Mikage ANGST where he calls reader a gold digging whore in the middle of an argument, ultimately affirming all of her insecurities so he has to figure out a way to show that he didn't mean it and that he's sorry without using his disgustingly abundant wealth 💔 anyways ilysm hope you take care of yourself

NO YOU ARE LITERALLY DISGUSTING FOR THIS (affectionate) YOUR MIND >>> YOU ARE SOOOOO RIGHT. SHUT UP THIS WILL LITERALLY BE THE MOST SCRUMPTIOUS FIC EVER BECAUSE I AM LITERALLY ABOUT TO PUT MY WHOLE EARTHUSSY INTO INCORPORATING THIS IDEA SOMEWHERE !!! BUT FOR NOW, TAKE THIS SNIPPET I WHIPPED UP IN ONE SITTING.

girl feel free to come back into my inbox WHENEVER and giving me your juicy ideas bc holy shit i loved this.

CW: HURT/COMFORT - A LOT OF BOTH, SWEARING, UNEDITED - I WAS GOING THRU IT WHILST WRITING THIS DON'T LOOK AT ME!

IMAGINE THIS: it's been a rough night for both you and reo, he's been through a lot in the past weeks because his dad just had to during the middle of soccer season to lecture reo about how to run a big business. the transition process is beginning to happen since father mikage is about to retire and although your purple-haired boyfriend has been preparing for this his whole life, having gone to business school part-time and graduating with honours, there's still a little part of him that feels weary from all the responsibilities.

all this accumulated stress needs to have an outlet eventually, right? welp, you just happened to be there at the right (wrong) time. you were simply delivering a platter of apples to your boyfriend who had his head in his hands, hunched over an endless pile of paperwork that was beginning to irk him with each passing second. countless images of him shredding up the paper flowed into his mind, a fury that manifested into his reality, except the paper was you D,:

one thing evolved into another, reo's endless stream of venomous words didn't stop flowing out of him as he spat poison after poison, burning you with the intensity of it all.

"you're so overbearing, can't you see that i'm fine? unlike you i can handle myself when things get hard," he spits, eyeing you with fury in his eyes, one that makes you gulp thickly.

"reo-"

-but you wouldn't know the first thing about fighting for what you want right, you fucking gold-digger."

that stops you in your tracks, silences you effortlessly, causing you to let your hands drop limply back to your sides as you stare at your boyfriend blankly. you're sinking into an abyss of hurt and insecurity, it's getting harder to breathe because of the way your chest swells with anger.

reo only continues, not noticing the way you physically and emotionally drop. "even if you don't give me attention for one second of the day, i won't forget you exist, so stop being so clingy and unnecessary! my money isn't going anywhere either, you don't need to occupy majority of my day so leave me alone. go shop online or something."

that was it. was that all reo perceived you to be? a dent in his money, the expenses of his bank account?

"fine. goodbye," you simply mutter before slipping through his office door, out in the hallway.

"don't bother me whilst i'm in here," he says with finality, one last declaration before you shut the door behind you.

the luxurious walls of reo's penthouse look down at you mockingly, the spacious area caging you in, chanting 'gold-digger' over and over again until it's all you hear.

staying here feels wrong.

so, you grab your purse and leave, as quietly as possible. slipping down to the garage where your (second hand) car was parked, you start the engine up and begin reversing out of the parking lot.

you begin to reflect on your relationship with reo. you love him, you really do, you love him because he's reo, the man who was always capable of making you smile, laugh, and make you feel like you were on top of the world. his money and fame was an added bonus that you truly didn't care much about.

but ever since dating him, you've had your own insecurities that have been forced on you by other people. there were crowds calling you a 'gold digger' who was only with reo 'for the money', and although you were sure of yourself and your intentions, your armour breaks down sometimes.

what reo said tonight was the final jab that allowed it to fully disintegrate.

you had a stable job of your own and finances to your own name, money wasn't something you avidly chased, sure having a few zeroes in your bank account was nice but that was all you really needed. as long as you could buy necessities and spoil yourself, it was satisfactory, and you could provide that for yourself!

reo loved to spoil you, showering you in luxurious gifts that you never knew how to accept. it would take a great deal of convincing for you to take what he bought you, and when you promised him to stop buying them for you, he agreed before buying you more material stuff.

as you pull up to the parking lot of the apartment complex that you resided in, you get into the elevator with a heavy heart, pressing the button to your floor with a lot of emotions.

the ride is silent. everything is so silent.

your apartment is even more silent. it's unused, slightly barren. your furniture was still there, except some dust had gathered on the tables and cabinets from how long you've neglected it.

the only reason you were able to keep your apartment was because you had no expenses outflowing since reo took care of almost everything. anything you needed, he bought it, groceries, bills, whatever, were charged on his card. for a period of time, your bank account merely grew and never decreased.

and since you hadn't been here for a while, electricity and water bills never bothered you too much.

you flop onto your made bed with a sigh. it wasn't as soft as reo's but you didn't find it in you to care, you just needed some well-deserved shut eye.

well, 'shut eye' occurred for merely an hour before your phone started vibrating violently.

with a groan, you shove your face back into your pillows before blindly reaching for your phone.

you already knew who it would be without looking at the caller id. of course reo would be looking for you, noting your obvious absence in his penthouse.

"hello?" you mutter.

"y/n? where the hell are you?" comes reo's frantic voice from the other line. he sounds genuinely concerned.

"doesn't matter."

"i'm sorry for everything i said. please, come back."

"reo, i'm tired, i can't do this with you right now."

"i'm sorry, i'm really really sorry."

"i don't want to hear this right now."

"i love you."

you sigh and you're sure reo can hear it on his end. unsure of how to respond, you just hang up on him before throwing your phone away. normally, you would feel bad about the way you left him, but that wasn't the case this time. you just needed to sleep on this.

but, it was reo you were talking about, and the last thing he was going to let you do was sleep without him.

at 1:24am, there's a series of ferocious knocks on your door, followed by screams of your name.

oh my god it was so embarrassing, you literally shoot out of bed as soon as you register what was happening and dash for your door. you don't want to disturb your neighbours' sleep and let them hear that the pathetic grovelling of your boyfriend. the entire hallway could hear reo and his shouting.

you open the door, pull him in, and slam it shut behind you again, leaving the purple-haired to stare at you with a bewildered expression.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss.

he looks at you the same way a puppy does when its owner kicked it out of the house.

you should've known that merely telling reo 'i don't want to hear this right now' would not be enough to pacify his determination and the fact that you hung up on him only intensified his pettiness. the purple-haired always sought you out, pulling himself into your orbit like a magnet. where you went, reo followed, even if it was to the ends of the world.

he had the money to do whatever he wanted, you suppose.

"i wanted to make sure you were safe," he pouts. "i didn't know whether you'd be here or not."

"well, i'm safe, and i'm here. so."

"i can see that," he leans against the back of your couch. reo looks so out of place in your small apartment, awkwardly playing with his hands. "so... should we go to bed?"

the audacity. "what do you mean 'we'? go back home, reo, i'll see you some other time."

as you turn around to go back to your bedroom, reo's quick enough to round around you, blocking you from the hallway with his larger figure.

"but you are my home. please, i'm really sorry about what i said, i didn't mean it," he pleads, grabbing your face so you could look him square in the eye.

you step out of his grasp easily, shaking him off. if you were in your right mind, you would've seen the look of heartbreak on reo's face.

"sure, if you didn't mean it then you wouldn't have said it in the first place, mikage."

you swerve around him to reach your bedroom and he follows you the entire time, trailing behind you, desperate for an ounce of your attention.

"i know i fucked up, but i didn't mean to hurt you and project my frustrations like that onto you when you were just trying to care for me." you sit down on your bed with a sigh and reo takes a seat beside you. "you know i love you right? like, a lot."

that's right. if there's one thing about reo it's that he loves you to an endless degree.

"thank you for always caring for me. i know you don't do it because you're after my money or fame, but because you want to ensure that i'm healthy and not rotting in all that i have to do," his voice cracks. is he beginning to cry. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

you let a beat of silence pass by before dropping your walls. he was always going to smash through them no matter what.

"i've always felt insecure in our relationship," you confess, no louder than an exhale and if reo wasn't holding on to every action of yours, he wouldn't have heard you. "being called a gold digger became normal when i started dating you and i didn't really care. well- i tried not to care."

you continue. "i don't want to let these comments get to me, but then you said it and... i don't know, it just felt horrible."

you feel an arm sneak under your leg, and another hand come to your elbow, both of which simultaneously pull you to straddle reo's lap. you don't look him in the eye- something he frowns at.

"i love you for you. you're the best i'll ever have, reo, but sometimes i-"

"-please don't finish that sentence," he murmurs, breath fanning against your face.

you meet his gaze. he's crying freely. tears are running down his cheeks like streams and you instinctively bring use your thumbs to catch the drops. you hate it when he cries.

"i don't want it to be anyone else but you," confesses the purple-haired. "i hate it when we're separated, i can't stay away from you too long or i think i will go insane."

his statement causes you to giggle a little.

"you laugh but i'm telling the truth."

"i laugh because you make me happy."

his arms wound around your waist, keeping you pressed against him, leaving you with no room to escape or part from him. just what reo likes.

"i'm sorry for what i said," he says against your collarbone. "when i didn't see you in our home, i didn't know what to think. i got so scared for a second because i had no idea where you could've gone so i started spamming your number-"

"-yeah wait, was calling me 24 times necessary?"

"i was going to keep calling you until you picked up so it could've taken 24 or 1000 times or more. now let me speak." you nod wordlessly, smiling a little at how silly reo can be. "and when i realised that you went back to your apartment, i felt horrible that i drove you out."

he looks up at you with glossy eyes.

"you came here because you wanted to prove me wrong, right? because you bought all this by yourself and don't need me, right?"

"well, kind of, but i also didn't want to be around you so i came back here."

reo frowns before leaning in to press delicate kisses to your neck. "please don't leave me. i need you by my side," he inhales before whispering his next statement. "even if you don't need me."

a hand of yours go up to thread through his hair. "don't say that," you use your other hand to direct his face away from your neck, pressing a kiss against his puckered lips. "i absolutely adore you, my love. you're my favourite person ever."

he smiles before leaning in again, kissing you with more fervour and passion. you can feel another tear slide down his cheek.

"lets go to bed, reo," you say when you part and he simply nods, laying you on the side of the bed before laying beside you, arms naturally finding themselves around your waist as reo tugs you as humanely close as possible. "sorry if this mattress isn't as comfortable as your twelve grand one back home."

"i couldn't care less," he whispers whilst tracing patterns on your bare skin.

so long as it's you he's next to, reo doesn't have a lot to complain about.

[ssa-montgomery]

we're slaves to any semblance of touch

Part 2

Word Count: 8891

Summary: Y/N and Daryl have been pining after each other for weeks and when Maggie finally urges Y/N to make her move, she and Daryl end up alone for the first time. Daryl is more than happy to help Y/N lose her virginity.

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader, Maggie Rhee

Warnings: Swearing, mutual pining, loss of virginity, smut, oral sex, blow jobs, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, slight innocence kink, unprotected sex

A/N: This fic was requested here on Tumblr by @azanoni using my prompt list and I had so much fun working on this one! I'm a sucker for prison-era Daryl so I knew the prison had to be the setting for this one and I just loved this request! Please feel free to send me any requests you might have for Daryl fics :)

Prompt(s): "Show me how you like to be touched." "Is this your first time?" "I don't know what to do." "Let me teach you."

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

By now you were really starting to question what exactly you'd done for the Georgian sun to this level of a personal grievance against you. You used the bottom of your top to twist the cap off your second water bottle of the hour, your hands too soaked with sweat to get a proper grip on it. It had finally reached that point in the middle of summer when everything was unbearable, even the metal railing of the watch tower was burning against your skin as you leaned forward on it. You thought maybe on the ground below it wouldn't be half as bad but you and Maggie and the unfortunate luck of drawing the first watch duty today. You stuck to the walkway surrounding the tower, trying as much as possible to avoid the tiny concrete sauna that was the watch tower's main room. Even out there it didn't seem to help with the humidity in the air.

Though you did have to admit, even if the heat was choking you there was always one positive to taking the watch shift - the view. The view from the tower covered most of the prison and for miles into the forest that surrounded it beyond the fence, giving you the perfect view of everyone going about their own jobs below you. 

Carol, ever the worrying mother figure to the group was making her rounds with water and food, making sure to get drinks to the people that would otherwise forget and collapse of dehydration in this heat. Further across the prison, you could see Rick tending to the fields that had been established for a more steady source of food with Carl doing his best to help. Beth sat near them, Judith playing in her lap as she watched her dad and brother work with a curious expression. As you scanned across the prison finally, your eyes fell on him.

Daryl as per usual was tucked away in his own corner of the prison, hiding away from the chatter and noise of everyone else. He was on his knees, shifting to sit back on his heels as he examined something on the old motorbike in front of him. One of the old prison toolboxes sat next to him as he searched around inside the now open side of the engine. Even from here, you could see the black streaks of greasy motor oil coating his fingers as he work them over the mechanics of the inside of the engine, holding one of the tools in his teeth while both of his hands were busy.

You couldn't pull your eyes away from the way he worked with his hands, the sweat shining on his skin where it clung to his arms and the back of his neck. There was something about the way his muscles moved under his skin while he loosened the parts with the wrench that made your skin flush with heat in an entirely different way to the harsh rays of the sun, your cheeks now burning warmer than before.

"You're starin'." The sing-song tone of Maggie's teasing voice rang out as she leaned in over your shoulder to follow your line of sight. You spun around, ripping your eyes away from Daryl no matter how much you wished you could keep watching, practically falling over yourself as you did. The rifle over your shoulder clattered against the railing as you finally steadied yourself only to be met with Maggie's grin. 

Maggie was one of your closest friends at the prison and your days on duty together like this often turned into gossip sessions for the pair of you. She was the one person you told everything to, including when you'd started to develop a crush on the tracker she'd just caught you trying to undress with your eyes.

"I'm not starin', I'm just- admirin' from a distance." Your weak excuse of a defence crumbled under one knowing look from Maggie as she tilted her head to one side, raising an eyebrow at you. Okay so maybe you were staring, maybe you did stare at him at any chance you got. Maybe you did stare at just how skilled his hands were working with his crossbow, easily manipulating it in his hands while he cleaned it or the rare, soft, loving look he got on his face whenever he was around Judith.  It didn't matter to you, as long as you were looking at him in some way nothing mattered to you. It was like everything else fell away around you. "Well, maybe I'm starin' a little."

"So you still ain't found the nerve to talk to him 'bout your feelings yet then?" Maggie asked looking at you curiously as she leaned against the wall opposite you. You could see the way she kept the perimeter of the prison in her line of sight at all times, even while you talked.

"Who says I haven't?" You brought your hand up over your heart, a fake offended gasp falling from your lips as you laughed at how obvious it was that you were still very much hiding your crush.

"You mean besides the quite frankly sad puppy dog pining?" You could always rely on Maggie to call you out on your bullshit when you needed her to. You scoffed at her blunt way of phrasing it as she laughed at you but she was right, you knew that. The pining truly had reached a whole new level. "I mean come on, everyone can see it. And with someone as observant as Daryl? He's an idiot if he hasn't already figured out your feelings for him."

At this point, you were certain Daryl already knew about your feelings for him. What was going on between the two of you was - complicated, to say the least. Maybe even more complicated than you'd let on to Maggie. You were confident it wasn't one-sided, Daryl having nearly straight out told you as much when you joked about the possibility of you having a crush on him. You could feel his eyes on you around the prison almost as much as you stared at him but things at the prison had been chaotic. Trying to establish a new community here had its own challenges and adding a relationship to the mix would have just complicated things for both of you. 

Now though, things were starting to settle, day-to-day life becoming smoother and maybe it was finally time to see if your gut feeling that Daryl wanted this just as much as you was right.

"I just - I'm nervous is all. You know I don't have much experience in certain areas Maggie, or well any experience and I don't know how to bring that up with him. It's not a conversation I've had to have with someone I really care about before." You sighed, shifting your hands nervously as you thought about it. You were willing to admit that your thoughts about Daryl more often than not turned inappropriate and you wanted nothing more than to act on them with him. Unfortunately, your experience with anything in that area stopped at a sad excuse for a messy make-out session with an asshole of an ex-boyfriend in your teen years. You didn't want to scare Daryl off if he thought your lack of practice would ruin the experience.

"I've seen the way he looks at you Y/N, given the chance that man would fall to his knees and worship the very ground you walk on. He ain't gonna care about your experience level as long as you're learnin' with him." Maggie said then, her tone serious as she gave you a reassuring look, her hand resting on your arm. Maybe she was right, you'd waited so long now that maybe it was time to stop worrying and just do something about your feelings.

"I guess the thing now is finding the time to talk to him alone with how busy we've all been lately." In the past few weeks, everyone's focus had been on turning the prison into a livable space for the group which had proved to be a challenge. When you weren't helping to clear the cell blocks you were on watch and on the rare few times you did have a day to yourself Daryl was away on runs. The most one-on-one time you'd managed to have with Daryl was during watch duty like this.

"Now correct me if I'm wrong but, he seems pretty alone down there right now." Maggie seemingly caught the nervous look on your face as you looked down at him again, torn between wanting to run straight to him and your duty to your job. Who knew when you might get another chance like this. "Just go for it, don't worry 'bout keepin' watch. I'll call Glenn, and tell Rick we wanted the time alone if he asks 'bout it. Don't waste any more time thinkin' 'bout it." 

"Thank you, Maggie, I really do appreciate this." You felt more excited than you had in a very long time as the possibilities ran through your mind. You gave Maggie a bright smile as you pulled her into a quick, tight hug before rushing to disappear down the ladder of the watch tower. You weren't going to wait for a second more.

~~~

"Whatcha doin' out here?" You asked peeking over Daryl's shoulder at the engine as you walked up behind him, your shadow towering over him as for once you were the one standing taller in your exchange. His eyes snapped up to you standing over him where he still knelt on the ground, dropping the wrench he'd been holding between his teeth. You could see the surprise on his face at your sudden presence behind him, not expecting to see you all day when he knew you were on watch duty. You let out a slight giggle at his reaction, not used to seeing him actually surprised. "Just me didn't mean to spook you."

"Nah. Ya didn't spook me." He said with an almost embarrassed shake of his head, his hair falling into his face to hide his piercing eyes. Your hand twitched at your side as you fought back the urge to reach out and brush his hair back out of his face. "Just ain't expecting anyone out 'ere is all. Pretty sure I burned out the brake pads on the last run. See that? Ain't supposed to be like that." 

You dropped your rifle down next to Daryl's crossbow and took a seat on the ground next to him, the concrete warming the skin of your legs. You leaned in as close as you could, your shoulders touching as your gaze followed his finger to where he was pointing at some exposed part of the bike. You let out a hum and nodded your head as he leaned in and started to work on pulling the piece loose. You pretended you knew what was happening just to continue watching him work with his hands, seeing each delicate touch this close up when in reality none of his bike talk made any sense to you.

"Gonna have to take her apart and replace the belt most likely." Daryl sighed, wiping his hands on his already filthy jeans as he sat back, propping one arm up on his knee. His arm brushed against yours as he moved and you sucked in a harsh breath at the contact. "A project for another day. Ain't gonna be able to do it without some scavenged parts so I gotta wait till the next run now."

There was a beat of silence as you both enjoyed the company. Daryl sat down fully on the ground, resting on his elbows as he stretched out, his legs spanning out in front of him until he was practically lying down. You watched the way his head tipped back, his eyes closing as he took in the heat of the sun on his face. His body was already covered in a thin layer of sweat, his hair sticking to the nape of his neck while his hands were coated in motor oil practically up to the wrists. 

There was something about him like this, messy and so involved in something he was passionate about that made him so attractive to you. Even when you had no idea what he was talking about you could listen to him talk all day, that deep southern accent commanding every ounce of your attention. It was rare for him to hold a conversation he was truly interested in so you savoured every single one.

"Have you been out here all day? Why don't we head inside for a bit? It would do us both some good to get out of the sun for a while and wash up before you end up with heatstroke."  You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you realised what you'd just said, the suggestion slipping out before you could even think. Part of you was still nervous you'd the read whole situation wrong as you waited for an answer, Daryl watching you curiously. What if he really wasn't interested in you like this and you scared him off for good?

"Sure, yeah. Good idea." He nodded much to your relief and pushed himself up from the ground, rolling out his neck muscles that had grown stiff from being bent over the engine all morning he did. The movement gave you the perfect view of his muscles tensing all the way down to his shoulders and back, your eyes following them until he turned around to face you again. You tried to look away but it was too late, Daryl catching you staring directly at you. You could have sworn you saw the slight tug of a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he reached a hand out to you, grabbing your wrist to pull you up from the ground. He glanced down at your wrist and winced at the ring of oil he'd left on your skin where his fingers had been wrapped around you. "Shit sorry. Guess I really should get washed up." 

"Don't worry 'bout it." You reassured him, your fingers absentmindedly tracing where he touched you. In reality, it felt like the oil would burst into flames at any second with how your skin burned from even the simplest of touches for him. It really was time to admit you were down bad for this man. "C'mon then."

There was a look of confusion on Daryl's face as he watched you grab your gun and walk away from the entrance to the central cell block that everyone used as living quarters. Your nerves were growing, almost stripping you of your confidence as you tried to figure out a way to explain your choice without entirely clueing Daryl into your plan. 

"On a hot day like this everyone's gonna want to wash up, the queues for the washroom in there are gonna be long, the other cell block is still mostly unused and the water system works just as well." You shrugged as casually as you could, gesturing towards the other building. 

There was a flash in Daryl's eyes as you turned away from him, your hips swaying more than usual as you made your way towards the door. It was as if he realised your plan at the mention of an empty building to yourselves on the one day you skipped out on your work to give you the time alone you needed. He didn't say anything, instead nodding at you as he grabbed his crossbow and moved to catch up to you.

You could feel your heart beating against your ribs almost hard enough to break free as you walked, Daryl's low strides quickly catching him until his steps fell in time with yours. Neither of you said anything as you walked, both of your minds racing with the idea of what could possibly happen when you were finally alone together. 

You were the first to push open the door to the cell block to find you were right, it was entirely empty, your footsteps echoing off the high ceiling. Unlike the other cell block, this one had only recently been cleared for use and people who were already settled in the other building hadn't bothered to move their stuff out there yet leaving the two of you completely alone.

"See? Told you we could skip the lines." You laughed, hoping your playful tone masked the nerves bubbling just below the surface. Your plan was more spur of the moment and as a result, was far from well thought out. Sure you finally had Daryl alone but you had no idea how to go about outright asking him for what you wanted or how to get him to make the first move on you.

"Clever girl." His eyes seemed to trace a path down your body as he spoke, no longer trying to hide the way he let his gaze linger on certain parts of your body a little longer. The sound of the praise coming from him had that blush threatening to creep back up on your cheeks. Something in the air had changed, it was no longer heavy with humidity but instead with a tension between you that could have been sliced with a knife.

You slipped your gun back off your shoulder and left it on the table in the main entrance hall along with the belt holster you'd become so fond of and it was shortly followed by the sound of Daryl's crossbow clattering down next to them. You turned to head down the hall towards the washroom, genuinely looking forward to cleaning the heat of the day off your skin even if this was all part of your plan. You had expected Daryl to wait in the hall until you were done so he could take his turn but instead to your surprise, he followed you down the hall and into the washroom. 

There wasn't a word exchanged between the two of you as you cleaned yourselves up, a tension filling the air that you both seemed unwilling to break just yet. You slowly cleaned the oil from your wrist, the action more of a second thought as your focus stayed on the mirror in front of you. In its reflection, you could see Daryl running his hands under the water, carefully rubbing away the oil on his skin. He dipped his head down and splashed his face with the running water, washing away the oil he'd managed to smear over his brow. You copied his movements, the cold water admittedly feeling amazing against your face.

The final part of your plan clicked in your mind at that moment, this was your chance if you were ever going to get one. If you were being honest the front of your tank top was admittedly filthy. Your morning started with helping Carol collect the ingredients for breakfast from the fields in the front of the prison and the dirt was still caked into the material of your top. In a split-second decision, you were sliding the top off over your head before you could back out, leaving you standing in only your grey sports bra.

Your hands practically shook as you dipped the top under the running water and tried to rub away the dirt. You weren't sure that Daryl was even looking, his back still towards you as you took one final look in the mirror before turning your attention to cleaning your top. You thought you might actually forget how to breathe if you let yourself think about what you were doing too much but it didn't take long to get your answer.

Daryl's fingertips were still cold from the water as they met your back, the feeling a strong contrast against your warm skin. He was standing directly behind you now, his movements nervous, as if he was still afraid of reading the situation wrong but he was playing into exactly what you wanted. His fingers traced a path down your spine, starting at the bottom of your neck and coming to a stop just above the waistband of your shorts.

"Is this alrigh'?" He asked, his voice rough and uneven, already becoming laced with lust but needing your reassurance before he went any further. He needed to hear you say this was what you wanted. You turned around to face him, his hands falling to the rim of the sink as he trapped you between it and his chest. Your breathing was becoming laboured already, your cheeks turning red with the heat that was now burning through your veins. At that moment you had never been more certain of anything in your life.

"Daryl, I didn't invite you out to the only empty building around for no reason." You laughed, the sound light and sweet to his ears as you basked in the feeling of this finally happening. Sure you'd know for a while this wasn't one-sided but to have Daryl confirm it felt surreal, part of you thought you were dreaming this entire thing. You reached out a hand and let it gently rest on his chest right over his heart, feeling it beat against your palm as it picked up speed. This wasn't a dream, this was very real. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. I want this."

That was all the invitation Daryl needed as he brought one hand up to cover yours, lacing your fingers together as he leaned in, his lips finally, finally meeting yours. The kiss was softer than you'd expected, slower. His lips moved carefully over yours as he took his time, learning how your body melted against his, the way you moved as your lips started to match his movements. It had been a long time since you'd kissed anyone and you were admittedly out of practice but there was something about Daryl, about the way his hands fit so perfectly around your waist that calmed your nerves and made everything flow more naturally.

"You were really plannin' this the whole time?" Daryl smirked against your lips, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. You squirmed under his stare, feeling overwhelmed by just how much power he had over you already. "You didn't give a damn 'bout my bike, did ya?"

"Daryl you are so incredibly sweet when you talk about what you're passionate about. I could listen to you all day." You sighed finally giving into the urge and reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes as you smiled sweetly at him. "But I have no fucking clue what you're talking about when it comes to that bike."

Daryl let out a laugh at that, a genuine, loud laugh that you'd never heard from him before. The sound made your heart skip a beat, it was like music to your ears, your smile lighting up your whole face as you watched him. There was something about seeing him like this, the side of him that no one else got to see, the side that was for you and you only that made you curious about what else he had to show you. That needy feeling was starting to take over again as you took both his hands in yours and slowly started to walk towards the washroom door, leading him behind you.

"You think these cells are still as intact as ours?" You asked, your voice still managing to hold that hint of innocence despite the intentions that question so obviously held. Daryl happily followed you out into the main cell block before taking the lead, pulling you into a small cell further down the first row. The cell was cleaner than you expected, the bed was still made with a soft blanket and there was a gas-light lamp sitting on the desk giving the room a surprisingly cosy feeling. You looked around the room and slowly started to recognise the clothes scattered around as Daryl's

"Sometimes I need space to myself." He shrugged as he caught the look of recognition on your face. He dropped down onto the bed and spread his legs apart, pulling you in by the waist until you were standing between them. "You ain't the only one with yer eye on this cell block. Been wantin' to take ya up here for a while."

Daryl slid his fingers into the belt loops of your shorts and pulled you even closer until you were pressed against him, chest to chest. You made the move this time, leaning in to kiss him slowly as you melted into his touch. His hands found your hips and gently squeezed before starting to slide downwards, exploring every curve of your body. You couldn't believe you weren't the only one who'd been thinking about this. You grew needier the more you thought about Daryl fantasising about bringing you out here and who knows what else he'd thought about doing with you.

He pulled away from the kiss and took in the sight of you standing in front of him in nothing but your bra, his hands running up your bare sides as he did. His touch was gentle against your skin, almost curious, exploring as he took note of every reaction and sound he drew from you. You let out a soft sigh as his hands trailed down to grab at the back of your thighs and he took the opportunity to pull you into another kiss, sliding his tongue into your open mouth. 

His hands were so close to where you needed them now and all you could think about was how much you wanted him to touch you properly, to relieve some of the pressure between your legs that was now becoming unbearable. Instead, he took his hands off you earning a disappointed whine as he leaned back on his hands on the bed, tilting his head to the side as he watched you closely.

"Show me how ya like to be touched. Wanna treat ya right." He said then, his voice holding that commanding tone that made you weak at the knees. You could feel the flush settling over your chest, creeping up into your face and betraying your false confidence as he placed all the focus on you. It wasn't that you were completely inexperienced with pleasure. You'd touched yourself before, admittedly mostly to the thought of Daryl but that was different. Those times you were focused on the end goal, there was none of the teasing or neediness you wanted from Daryl. You wanted him to touch you like you were the only thing he cared about in the world. 

"I uh -" You stuttered over your words, trying to find the best way to voice your thoughts to Daryl but the words seemed to die in your throat. You could feel the embarrassment you'd feared clawing its way up into your chest as you watched the expression on Daryl's face change. He seemed to have pieced it together but his look was more curious than it was judgemental.

"Is this yer first time?" He asked, his voice soft and quiet as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His thumb traced across your side trying to ease your anxiety as he waited for an answer.

"I hope that's not a turn-off." You chuckled nervously, turning your face away from his gaze as you admitted the truth. Admittedly it did make you feel better to finally have it out in the open and Daryl didn't seem as affected by the news as you'd expected. 

"There ain't nuthin' you could do or say that's gonna be a turn-off. Been wantin' ya too damn bad for anythin' to change that." Daryl reassured you, pressing a kiss to the centre of your chest. You could feel your anxiety melting away at his words and the way his lips felt against your skin. The scruff of his beard tickled your skin as he tilted his face up to meet your gaze, the surprising softness in his steel eyes almost taking your breath away. His lips moved over your collarbone pressing gentle kisses there. "I'll take care of ya, be gentle with ya, I promise."

 "I trust you." You nodded knowing he meant every word of it.  You'd never trusted anyone in the way you trusted Daryl. Your hands fell to the back of his neck, running through the hair there before lightly pulling. You loved the new shaggy look he had as he grew his hair out longer, it suited him nicely you thought. Daryl tugged on your waist, pulling you down to straddle his lap before his hands glided up your back, meeting the edge of your sports bra. You got the hint as he snapped the elastic against your skin and leaned back, giving him the space to pull the material up over your head.

You could practically feel the path his eyes burned across your skin as he took in the slight of your now entirely bare chest. His touch returned to your chest, his calloused hands gently kneading at your breasts. You whined out at the feeling of finally having Daryl touching you like this as his palms rolled over your sensitive nipples. His own eyes were heavy with lust as he stared at the way your breasts looked under his hands, enjoying the feeling of your warm skin under his touch.

"You look fuckin' incredible like this Doll," Daryl mumbled against your skin as his lips found their way to your neck, moving across the front of your throat. The words seemed to tumble from his mouth before he even really thought about them and the rare praise from him had you rolling your hips against him, your body searching for any friction it could get. Your reaction spurred him on as he realised how much you loved the praise. "Best tits I've ever seen."

"Daryl." You tried to hold onto enough of your decency to still at least sound embarrassed by the way he was talking but his name sounded more like a moan on your lips. You didn't want to admit how much his words affected you but the way your hips started to grind against your control showed it. His lips left a trail of red blotches across your skin in their wake as his blunt nails dragged down your back, marking you as his.

"I mean it. Every word. Could spend all day worshippin' this perfect fuckin' body. Got an ass to die for too." His hands roamed lower down your back until he grabbed at your ass, using his grip to pull you closer to him. You collapsed into his chest, your arms winding around his neck as you pulled him into a needy kiss. He squeezed at your ass, making your hips roll forward again and with this new position you could feel his erection straining against his pants underneath you.

His need was growing with each kiss, his lips growing rougher, messier against yours with each kiss becoming all teeth and tongue. You needed more, needed everything you'd been daydreaming about with him. You had a hundred fantasies running through your head and even if you were unsure what you were doing you wanted to learn, with him.

The kiss broke as you shifted further back in his lap, his mouth chasing yours as you pulled away with a teasing look on your face. You glanced down at his lap as your hands finally found his belt. Daryl let out a soft groan as you played with the leather material before you started to thread it through the buckle, sinking off his lap and onto the ground between his thighs. As he pieced together what you were trying to do he caught your wrist then, urging you back up.

"You don't gotta do that, not yer first time."  You smiled up at Daryl through your lashes, giving him the sweetest look. It truly was heartwarming how willing he was to put the full attention of this moment on you but you'd been dreaming about what it would be like to go down on him for weeks now. 

"I know but I wanna." You reassured him, kissing the inside of his wrist where he was still holding yours in his hand. You let the kiss linger for a moment longer, feeling his pulse under your lips. "I just- I don't know what to do really is all."

"Let me teach ya then." He said, his voice raspy with the thought of just how much you wanted to please him. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about you on your knees like this for him before. He quickly undid his own belt before kicking his boots and tattered, well-worn jeans off to one side leaving him in just his boxers. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs at the sight of the outline of his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. You hadn't even touched him and yet your head was swimming, making you feel drunker than any alcohol ever had. "Just go slow, take ya time." 

You reached out and lightly dragged your fingers across his cock over his boxers, feeling the way he twitched as your touch pulled a strangled moan from his lips. The sound awoke something in you, making you forget about your own nervousness for a moment as you went for it, finally tugging off his boxers to throw them down with the rest of his clothes. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and slowly stroked him up and down, watching for even the smallest reactions on his face. You could see the rise and fall of his chest as he fought to keep his eyes open, watching you as you let your tongue peek out, leaving kitten licks just under the head on every downward stroke.

"That's it Darlin' j'st like that." His southern drawl deepened as the lust he was feeling took over, building higher and higher. There was something about your innocence and how willing you were to learn, to let him be the one to ruin you that turned him on beyond belief. You kissed your way up his length all the way from the bottom until your tongue ran across the tip, licking up the precum that was starting to build up there. You leaned in then and took the tip between your lips, looking up at him as you slowly pushed your head forward. Your tongue ran along the underside as you took the first inch or two. "C'mon ya can take a lil' more, atta girl." 

You couldn't say no to the praise coming from Daryl as you pressed forward again, stopping just before his cock moved far enough back in your throat to make you gag. You moaned lightly around him at the feeling of finally having your mouth on him, the sound vibrating in your throat sending a spark of pleasure through Daryl,  You let your tongue do the work as you held him in your mouth, letting your body adjust to breathing through your nose as you traced along the vein that ran up the length before lapping over the rip.

"Suck." He said then, his voice breaking on the word as he tapped your full cheek. His hand found its way to your hair, tangling his fingers there as he slowly started to pull your head back before urging you forward again, setting your pace. He needed more, needed movement before he lost his mind. "Ya gotta suck and move yer head." 

You followed his instructions, hollowing out your cheeks as you matched the pace he set for you, bobbing your head over his cock. His hand tightened in your hair as you sucked and he let out a low groan of your name, his head falling back towards the ceiling. You pressed your thighs together in hopes of getting some relief as you ached between your legs at the noises he made. You got a little too eager at how good you were making him feel and took him deeper than you could, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he hit the back of your throat and you gagged around him.

"Shit-" He moaned out at the feeling of sliding further into your throat, getting him even closer to the edge but he held himself back, resisting the urge to thrust his hips knowing it was too much for you. "Just breath, 'ts alrigh'. Easy sweetheart."

It sounded like he needed to listen to his own advice as his breathing grew heavy, his ragged breaths turning to groans as each movement brought him closer to the edge. You could feel your panties being ruined between your legs, growing wetter with each gasp and breathy moan of your name that fell from his lips. You started to gain more confidence and brought your hand up to join the mix, stroking what you couldn't take into your mouth

"Fuck!" Daryl practically growled low in his throat as he used his grip on your hair to pull you off him rougher than he'd intended as you started to move your hand harder along his cock. You looked up at him, wide-eyed with fear that you'd done something wrong but that quickly faded when you saw the look on his face. He collapsed backwards on the small bed, his eyes screwed shut as his hand tightened around the base of his cock, trying to regain control over himself. His chest was rising rapidly, a string of curses falling from his mouth. "Fuck- I almost fuckin' came. Christ woman how the hell was that your first time? That mouth is sinful." 

"You could have you know," The mix of knowing just how good you'd made Daryl feel and your slight nervousness at matching his dirty talk made you giggle. You rested your chin on his thigh and looked up at him through your lashes, sinking your teeth into your already swollen and saliva-coated bottom lip. "Come in my mouth. Kind of hoped you would."

"Next time Darlin' next time." You could feel your heart racing at the thought of a next time with Daryl already. You never wanted anyone else after this, Daryl was all you needed. He leaned down and helped you up from the rough cell floor, his hands smoothing over the harsh red marks showing on your knees. You kind of hoped they'd last, as a reminder. "C'mere to me."

You crawled onto the bed next to Daryl as he sat up and finally shrugged off his leather bike vest and short-sleeved flannel, giving you a full view of his chest. His body was perfect, every mark and scar just adding to how attractive he was to you. You ran your hands over his skin, feeling the way his stomach muscles tensed under your touch the lower you reached. Every touch and every moment of this was better than you could have ever imagined. You could never have imagined how hard his muscles would feel under your hands as they moved to his forearms, tracing over the tattoos there. 

Daryl's hands found their way back to your waist and he easily manhandled you, moving you however he wanted until you were lying down on the bed underneath him. He kneeled over you, grabbing your jaw in both hands as he crushed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss that knocked the air from your lungs. He was already strung out, his entire body on edge from how close he'd been earlier but still, his hands were gentle with you as they slid over your stomach, his kiss the only thing betraying how desperate he was.

He made quick work of your shorts, flicking the button open with one hand before pulling them down your legs. Within seconds of your shorts hitting the ground, Daryl sipped his hand into the front of your panties, slowly dragging his fingers across your folds as he felt how wet you were.

"This all for me? Did ya get this wet just from suckin' my dick?" He asked his voice dripping with that teasing tone that drove you wild, stopping his movements until you answered him.

"Yes. All for you Daryl." You gasped as he drew his fingers around your clit in painstakingly light circles as a reward for your answer. It was enough contact to send fire burning through your nerves but nowhere near enough to give you any kind of release. You bucked your hips up into his hand, hoping to get any kind of pressure but instead, he pulled his hand back out of your underwear moving to pull the already ruined material down your legs. He threw your panties to the side and returned his thumb to its previous position, brushing over your clit while he slowly pushed his middle finger inside you.

"Fuck ya really are tight aren't ya?"Daryl groaned out feeling the way you clenched around his finger as he imagined what it would feel like around his cock. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you as he started to stretch you out. You were admittedly worried about being able to take Daryl when you felt the slight burn from his finger alone and he was bigger than you'd expected. "Don't worry sweetheart, I'll make sure yer ready." 

The feeling of Daryl fingering you was unlike anything you could have ever had with your own hands. His fingers were thicker than yours, stretching you out as he a second one to the mix and they were skilled. Years of working with his crossbow gave him the precision he needed to find your g-spot as he hooked his fingers inside of you. You never knew it could feel this good when it was someone else bringing you pleasure. He leaned down and caught the sounds of your moans with his mouth in a messy kiss.

He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses across your jaw and down your throat towards your chest, you already knew they'd leave a mark as he sucked at your skin. His teeth nipped at your collarbone as you lost yourself in the pleasure that was starting to build higher and higher in the pit of your stomach. His tongue licked across your skin, soothing where he'd just bitten before slowly moving down to lap across the curve of your breasts. He focused his attention on you, trying to ignore how painful hard he was as he felt you buck up against his hand at another curve of his fingers. His lips latched around your nipple as his fingers never let up their pace, slowly stretching you out until Daryl could easily slide a third finger in.

Daryl grew restless with each minute that passed, changing his focus to your other breast as he sucked and lapped his tongue across the hardened nipple. The feeling of you clenching around his fingers as your hips thrust up to meet his movements drove him crazy. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Think ya can take me now sweetheart?" He asked, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear, his hot, uneven breath fanning across your skin. Your hands found his shoulders before sliding up to lock around his neck, pulling him into a kiss as you nodded. You were more than ready to feel Daryl inside of you, your body practically screaming at you with how badly you needed to come.

"Y-yeah Daryl please, please fuck me." You whined out at the feeling of Daryl pulling his fingers out of you, suddenly clenching around nothing. He brought his hand up admiring the slick coat of your arousal that coated his fingers before slipping them into his mouth. He let his eyes fall shut as he sucked, his tongue licking the taste of you from his fingers. 

"Fucking hell woman, I'm eatin' that pussy first chance I get. Taste so damn sweet." He groaned out, that low gravelly sound pooling between your legs as you pictured Daryl's head between your thighs. "But right now I might just fuckin' explode if I don't fuck ya."

Daryl shifted you both into a more comfortable position as he settled between your legs, his hands pushing your thighs further apart. He took a minute to admire the sight of you spread open in front of him before he lifted one leg to wrap around his waist. You got the hint, digging your heel into the small of his back to pull him even closer. You could feel his cock pressing against your folds when he adjusted himself as close as he could get to you.

"Ya ready for this?" He asked looking down between your bodies as he took his cock in his hand and teased the head over your clit. You threw your head back at the feeling, your leg tightening around his waist.

"I want you, Daryl." You gasped out, nodding your consent as he move his cock lower to gather some of the wetness around your entrance. Lube hadn't exactly been a top priority on your last few runs but Daryl still wanted to make sure this was as comfortable as possible for you as he stroked himself, spreading your arousal over his cock. 

With your final nod of approval, he pushed forward, the first few inches sliding inside you. You cried out at the feeling, your back arching off the bed as your hands grasped his arms, dragging your nails across his skin. Even with how much Daryl had tried to prepare you it still burned as your body fought to adjust to his size. Your chest heaved with your harsh breaths as you whimpered.

"Shh hush sweetheart yer alrigh'. Just breathe, it'll get better I promise. I'll go slow." You could feel your body relaxing from the simple words of praise from him as his hand cupped your jaw, swiping his thumb across your cheek. He moved at your pace, waiting until he felt your muscles relax, releasing their tight grip on him before he thrust forward again. This time he sunk into you fully, holding himself close to your body as he fought every instinct that was telling him to thrust, to just move. He buried his face in your chest, placing kisses between your breasts as he waited for you to adjust again.

"Daryl - move, please." The pleading tone in your voice sounded foreign even to your own ears but you couldn't help it. You had never felt this full, so completely surrounded as Daryl's body caged you into the bed. He stretched you out in all the best ways and even the pain it caused got you higher and higher. It felt like time slowed around you as Daryl stayed still inside of you and it was driving you crazy, you needed more, needed to feel him move.

Daryl wasted no time in giving you what you wanted, he pulled out almost entirely before thrusting back in. The rhyme he set was slow but deep, each thrust reaching a place inside you that had you moaning out at the contact. You gave into the feeling more and more as you adjusted, the pain giving way to pure pleasure. There was something freeing about being in the building alone, you didn't have to worry about who would hear you or what kind of attention you'd attract as your moans grew louder which each thrust until you were damn near screaming Daryl's name.

This feeling was far beyond anything you'd experienced before, beyond anything you could have imagined. Your senses were entirely overwhelmed by him, the feeling of each thrust building you towards the best orgasm of your life. The sound of his pants were growing heavier in your ear with each thrust and you were breathing in the rich, heady scent that was so unmistakably Daryl that made your head spin whenever you were around him.

You dragged your nails down his back, feeling the raised skin of his scars under your touch as you went, leaving new red marks after you. His thrusts were starting to grow sloppy, losing their rhyme as they came faster than before as he chased his own release while trying to keep his focus on you. His hands pinned your hips down to the bed as you tried to arch into the feeling, completely losing control of your body as your brain melted with how close you were.

All it took to break the pressure that was building inside of you was one swift drag of his thumb across your clit and you were spasming around him, your entire body freezing as you came hard. You grasped at him, needing something, anything to ground you as broken moans fell from your lips.

"Daryl! Oh god - I - shit - please. Please." You weren't sure what exactly you were begging him for anymore, all you knew was everything was too much and yet somehow not enough at all. Your control over your body entirely shut down as you turned to putty in his hands, letting him use you in whatever way he needed as he chased his own orgasm.

"Fuck ya feel fuckin' perfect, that pussy squeezin' me like that. Look so fuckin' sexy when ya cum like that for me. I coulda watched that forever." Daryl's words were becoming slurred as he spoke, barely making any sense anymore as his entire focus was on the feeling you were bringing him. His hips snapped roughly against you to the point of almost being painful before finally he rutted against you, moaning loudly into your neck as he came. You could feel him twitching inside you as he collapsed against you, his arms giving out underneath him. He didn't bother pulling out of you yet. "Doll ya have ruined me forever, I ain't ever gonna get as good a fuck with anybody else. Don't wanna either." 

"Daryl that was - that was- holy shit." You laughed but it came out more breathy as you collapsed back against the pillows, trying to steady your breathing. Daryl slowly pulled out of you, the feeling making you groan out at the slight discomfort but you were almost glad of the ache that you knew would remind you of what you'd done for days.

"Hope that was as good as ya were expectin' for yer first time," Daryl said nuzzling his nose under your jaw as he lay down beside you on the small bed, turning you on your side so he could pull you back against his chest.

"It was more than perfect, thank you, Daryl." You reassured him as you tangled your arms with his that had settled around your waist. You lost track of how long you lay like that, simply enjoying each other's company as Daryl pressed light kisses across your skin. You could have easily fallen asleep like that and any other time and you would have but you were still technically on duty. "We should get back before the others start askin' questions." 

Daryl hummed his agreement as he watched you sit up on the bed, running his hand up your back before you put your bra back on. He stood up from the bed as you started to dress yourself again and quickly threw back on his pants, walking over to grab a clean washcloth from the desk. Without saying a word he knelt down in front of you and gently wiped away the mess between your legs, leaving a light kiss against the outside of your thigh once you were clean. You could feel your heart flutter at the gesture, just the simple act of him taking the time to take care of you.

With your tank top still damp and abandoned in the sink of the washroom you slipped Daryl's oversized shirt on over your head before reaching to grab your panties from the pile of clothes. You glanced around in confusion when you noticed they weren't next to your shorts anymore.

"Daryl did you see my -" You looked up to see the cheeky grin on his face as he slipped his hand into his back pocket and dangled your panties from the tip of his finger in front of your face.

"Lookin' for these?" You rolled your eyes and reached to grab them from him but he quickly dodged your movement tucking them back into his pocket. "Consider it a keepsake. Until next time."

"Well in that case," You stood up slipping back on your shorts with nothing underneath, even after everything you'd just done it felt like the naughtiest thing you'd done all day. The denim rubbed against you in all the places you were still sensitive. You pushed up on your toes to kiss his cheek before whispering the next words in his ear. "I'll find a cuter pair for you to keep next time."

Taglist: @azanoni @ineedmorefanfics2

[imaginebeingmentallystable]

34 Portland Row // part 2

SUMMARY: Lockwood and George explain a little, and Lucy finds out why Winnie left. Winnie's brother shows up at Portland Row??

NOTES: this is an oc insert but feel free to change the name and pronouns in your head. I'll try to use more gn terms in any other fics I write :) I changed my mind it's now a Lockwood x oc B)

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, swearing, death

WORD COUNT: 1072 words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

"Mattes?! Like the Mattes family, one of the richest families in London?" 

Lucy gaped. She'd never expect a daughter of the Mattes family to live in anything less than a mansion. 

Lockwood sighed. "Yes. Like that. She bought the house when we decided to start the agency. Said we needed to keep home and work separate."

George looked pointedly at Lockwood, urging him to finish the story. Lockwood glared at him before continuing. 

"We had a bit of a row-" 

"He means he risked his and our lives one too many times-" 

"-and she left. Just a few months before we hired you, actually." 

Lucy looked between the two. 

"Okay." 

Lockwood took that as permission to leave and take his teacup into the kitchen. 

George sighed too. "It was more than just a row. He doesn't like talking about it because he said some… hurtful things."

"Ah."

Lucy thanked him with a nod and climbed the stairs to the attic room. 

There was clearly more to Lockwood's relationship with Winifred than they'd mentioned. Lucy flopped into bed with a frustrated growl. 

She'd thought they were done with secrets.

Lockwood had been staring at the ceiling for two hours now. 

He'd tried hard to forget about his fight with Winnie, but the question had been inevitable. Of course Lucy would notice the door (she wasn't blind), he'd just (foolishly) hoped she wouldn't ask about it. 

Giving up on trying to sleep, Lockwood threw back his covers and crept down the stairs to get a cup of tea. 

He put the kettle on and sat down, memories of that night flashing through his mind. 

The raised voices of Winifred and Lockwood followed by the slam of the front door. 

"You promised me! You said it was the last time-" "Well it worked didn't it?!"  "That means nothing if we're dead- if you're dead!"

Lockwood turned on her. 

"I don't need you to baby me-"  "Baby you- GOD WHEN WILL YOU UNDERSTAND? IT'S NOT JUST ABOUT YOU. That stunt you just pulled-"  "That 'stunt' saved your arse, as I seem to remember. And what were you doing to help? NOTHING-"  "DON'T YOU EVEN-"  "Oh PLEASE. Let's stop pretending there's any reason you still work here other than your funding-" 

Winnie pulled her hand back and slapped him. Her voice dripped with venom as she spoke. 

"Anthony John Lockwood. You are the biggest, most massive PRICK I ever saw! Your family would be ashamed and I'll be damned if I ever come back here!" 

She turned away but not before Lockwood spotted the tears beginning to streak her skin. 

But he was still mad. Besides, she would leave anyway. Everyone did.

"WELL WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? FUCK OFF." 

She hadn't come home that night. 

When Lockwood had gone up the next morning to apologise, he'd found an incredibly pissed off George holding a hastily written note. He'd been shocked. This hadn't been their first fight but..

They'd only gotten back on speaking terms the week before Lucy had arrived on the doorstep. Even then, LOCKWOOD IS A DICK had been inscribed on the thinking cloth. 

"Can't sleep?" 

George leaned on the doorframe, a knowing look on his face. Lockwood offered a tight smile before getting up to turn off the kettle. 

The sound of water being poured filled the short silence. 

"I didn't tell her by the way."

George accepted his tea gratefully. Lockwood grimaced. 

"We promised no more secrets."  "So. You'll tell her?"  "... Yeah."

On the other side of London, Winifred Mattes was suffocating. 

Her dress was too tight, her makeup was millimetres away from being a face mask, and the idiot she was conversing with (if you could call it that) kept trying to stick his sweaty hand up her skirt. 

She'd never have to deal with this shit if she'd stayed at Portland Row. 

A tap on her shoulder provided a merciful refuge from the hell that was this party. Maybe it was her brother-

Her hopes were dashed when she turned around and saw her aunt. 

"So sorry for the interruption, but I must speak with my dear niece." Claudia wore a polished smile, but her gaze was sharp, digging deep into her and pulling. 

As soon as they were out of his range of hearing, her aunt scowled. 

"Could you look any more uninviting?!" 

Winnie internally rolled her eyes. Here we go.. 

Surprisingly, Claudia didn't make any more comments on her lack of interest. 

"Would you like to explain to me why there is a ghost still haunting the Nightlock Hall mansion?"                                                        "I can't-" 

"You can and you will do it alone, for that young man of yours. Besides, you've done it before. Do you know how this looks when my own niece, the co-owner of the house, is a bloody agent?! We cannot let them think you are incompetent. Do not bring shame to this family."

Winnie pried herself from her aunt's grip. 

"I'll fix it."

She said quietly, stomach churning. Her aunt had complete control over her. 

It was disgusting

The emerging morning light revealed Lockwood asleep on the kitchen table. 

Lucy wondered briefly if she should leave him there, but decided to shake him awake. 

He groaned. Lockwood's neck had been at an odd angle all night and now he was suffering the consequences. 

"Lucy," He yawned, "I need to talk to you later." 

She stayed quiet. So she was right. There was more to this Winifred situation. 

"Toast?" She asked instead, sipping on her recently made cup of tea. A look of surprise flashed across Lockwood's face, before he nodded. 

George chose this moment to reveal himself. 

"Good morning."

Lucy jolted, nearly spilling her tea. 

"GEORGE! When did -were you there the whole time?!" She set down her cup, watching him with wide eyes. 

"Yes." He replied simply, grabbing. A cup of his own.  

Lucy rolled her eyes, exasperated, causing Lockwood to smirk. Last night's conversation was forgotten… For now. 

The rest of the morning was spent reading, chatting and in George's case, experimenting with the skull jar. It was, overall, pretty uneventful. 

It had just started raining when a frantic knock at the door interrupted the quiet of the house. 

"Door!" George called from the kitchen.     

Both Lockwood and Lucy got to the door at the same time. Lucy eyed a rapier as Lockwood greeted the person at the door. 

But before he could get past a friendly 'Hello', the stranger spoke. 

"My name is Julian Mattes and I need your help."

A/N: okay but does anyone else just imagine Lockwood and Lucy having a moment and George just somewhere in the background like OMFG I'm trying to read here-

[breathplayed]

4, 6 & 8 💜

below cut to save dashboards!!

(4) what is the plot bunny you've been carrying the longest? ooouuuuhhh..... so many............ So many............ i have full fic outlines from 2017 LOL but the most viable one is a jikook au where they're both vampire hunters + jimin is Turned + jungkook swears to hunt him and be the one to kill him bc it's "what he would have wanted" some good ole lovers to enemies bullshit Once Again. every year since 2018 i've thought it'd be a fun three-part fic i could post for halloween and have never gotten around to it. lately i keep thinking it'd be good for an original novel (hello lesbians <3) but then i would have to actually worldbuild and write well which is daunting......... so back to the drawing board every time...... Maybe Some Day

(6) do you have any kind of consistent writing schedule or just hoping for the best? 💀 i always tell myself i will try to write a little bit every day, and there's been periods where that worked well enough for me, but tbh i write the best and most when i am daydreaming about a fic idea and get batshit possessed and fuel a Fixation. in those moments i am seized by insanity and sit down to write for about 4-6 hours straight in the dead of the night and manage several thousand words in one sitting. the record is 10k for DSD pt1 in like a day, and when i wrote the 90k fic that is WBIO in like 3 weeks off the high of not having any responsibilities in early lockdown (incl almost 20k in one sitting)

So kind of a mix.... When I have more free periods of the year i tell myself *trying* to stick to a schedule is good, like "ok i should go TRY to write at least a little every day, and if it doesn't work and im not feeling it today that's fine" but I can't lie, most of what I put out is the product of a feverish manic haze. Where i daydreamed too hard about a fic idea and accidentally came up with the whole plot and exact dialogue lines and need to bullet point it immediately before I forget it all. I am tormented by visions

(8) what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it? Constructive criticism: not exactly a fan unless I ask for it lol, just bc I think it's kinda rude to offer constructive criticism unless it's asked for? So I already automatically feel a lil cornered. I spent a year as an art major bringing paintings in for concrit sessions, I can take it, but that feels like a facilitated environment where I knew I was opening myself up to hear things so I could improve..... however, I'm not super interested in 'improving' writing beyond naturally improving by doing it.... bc it's just a hobby if that makes sense? I'm also usually super aware of how/where one of my fics is weak (example: i Know my worldbuilding and side characters and settings are not the most fleshed out, that I usually only focus on the main pairing/conflict and let everything else be a cardboard cutout, RIP) and just didn't put the work in to improve it bc I want to have Fun doing this hobby and struggling with fixing weaknesses is not super fun. Yes i am very lazy but it's ok it's fanfiction posted for free not something I'm trying to publish ukno. I'm a perfectionist in other ways! It balances out

Important to note I define constructive criticism as like "it would have been better if you did x instead" and a lot of times in fanfiction that's just people's personal tastes. I do consider everything readers say to me! Like someone said they didn't think the side characters served any point in "folie à trois" and it's just me inserting my faves, I Considered that opinion. There's been times I consider feedback and changed how I continued in a story, like in TLG people said they wanted more Jimin pov/motives and I said hmmm yeah that's valid I'll do more of that. In the aforementioned case for Folie, I considered it and decided (1) no, they're there for jk to see that Everyone is a lil fucked up and (2) it's my fic i can put my kpop girlies in it if i want lol. So sometimes 'concrit' is really just someone saying 'what you wrote wasn't to my personal taste' and not actually anything to do with the quality of the story/plot/style whatever itself.

Feedback overall tho, I do always want to hear from readers!!??! How a story made them feel especially. Tbh , TLDR, I think it really depends on the tone.... My relationship to it is on a case by case basis..... like I'm fine hearing that a character/plot frustrated someone, that they disagree with a character's actions, etc.... because that's Conflict in the story and I think good writing makes the reader Feel something..... it really just depends on what is being offered? if something is obviously mean spirited (which I have gotten) or offering concrit without asking like telling me "btw this would have read better if you didn't write like a possessed failed poet" i'm like ok well i have no plans on improving that. I am down to clarify any points of confusion on a scene/character/etc but I will not be improving. Lol

I hope that makes sense sorry I rambled as always. I took one of my adhd meds for the first time in weeks and now I am tachycardic and overexplaining myself worse than usual. Thank u for the ask <3

[imatechbummerliketomholland]

sorry seems to be the hardest word - h.o

Word count: 3171

Warning: angst, swear

Pairing : harrison osterfield

Request: no.

N/A: It took me so long to write this. I remember i asked @soft-haz to write something with the "sorry seems to be the hardest word" vibe, it was so good! But i wanted to write something by myself too. Remember, english is not my first language, so be kind if you spot mistakes, i really try my best. Italics parts are flashbacks

Thanks to @petersasteria because she correct a big part of this fic! Love you. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Love you all! xx

ღღღ

part 2 (harry hollad x reader) - part 3 (harry holland x reader)

The few rays of sunshine in London today and England's victory over the Croats had improved your mood. Tom and Harry were home as soon as the game was over, they found you sitting on the couch with a glass of wine. You hadn't wanted to join them at the bar for obvious reasons: to keep your privacy as much as possible. Living with four boys was not easy, but living with four boys, one of whom was a world-famous actor and another in the midst of the media boom, was even more so. Of course, fans knew that Tom, Harrison, Harry, and Tuwaine had a female roommate. But you've always managed to never appear with your face uncovered in any media activity of your four-favorite divs.

The bottle was already nearly empty and you were already on your drunken streak, not wanting to stop when two of your drinking buddies had just entered. What a good opportunity to continue the evening.

"Will you join me, boys?"

“Mmm yeah, sure, love.” Harry said.

But a problem presented itself to you: the boys drank beer, you drank wine. You had two options now: either open a new bottle of wine for yourself or continue the evening with beer. Your eyes turned to your glass, spilling the rest of the bottle into your jug before swallowing it dry. Harry had a stunned expression on his face as Tom smirked.

"I see hanging out with us leaves its mark."

"You wish, Holland. I knew how to do it before I even knew you existed."

"You've known me since I was 19."

"And you think I waited for you to learn how to drink?"

"Fair enough."

You met the boys in a pub. You’ll never tell Nikki that, when you met them, her precious twins drank too many beers even if they weren’t old enough to drink (technically, they weren’t criminals, drinking beer at 16 is legal and come on, it’s England!)

❀❀❀

So, you met the boys in a pub. It was one of the nights when your friends and you wanted to drink until you're blackout drunk. You were in that pub/club, looking up after one of your friends. She had detected some pretty boys in the back and left you there, alone. You moved around the room without paying attention: glass in hand, your phone you stared at in the other. You suddenly felt an arm blocking your chest with force. The surprise had made you drop your glass.

“What the heck?!?”

“You will not pass, miss.”

“Oh yeah? Why? Is the pope there?” You said sarcastically

The man who stood in your way raised an eyebrow and you looked at him, waiting for a response.

“You are very funny. It’s a VIP space.”

“Once again, why is that?”

“None of your business.”

“Actually, I don't care if Sir Elton John is in that bar or if it's even the Queen of England. I'm just looking for my friend: tall, blonde, balloon-sized fucking boobs, red dress."

“Not seen."

You sighed. The situation annoyed you to the highest point. You had lost your friend and that big asshole had broken your glass. The man in front of you seemed to be marble. Short answer, arms crossed, and an imposing posture. All you wanted tonight was just to have fun. You didn't care that God-knows-who, any famous or rich enough to book a VIP space, was in that bar.

"Would the asshole that hired you tonight, at least be kind enough to buy me the glass you broke with your bullshit?"

From his side, Harry had noticed the altercation. He then walked towards you, he laughed when he heard you insult his brother through the bouncer's fault. And as the Colossus' bodyguard was about to tell you that you could always dream of getting that free drink, Harry spoke up.

“The asshole, maybe not directly. But the asshole's brother. Certainly. It will be on his check anyway.”

“For God's sake, what are you waiting for then?”

And just like that, you met the boys. Harry paid you for the glass that the other jerk broke, invited you to this precious VIP space and you could talk and dance the night away. You had exchanged your social media and over time, your phone numbers. And as fast as you couldn't imagine, you had found yourself stuck in an apartment with four adorable idiots as roommates.

❀❀❀

"Hey, y/n, where are the others?" Harry asked.

You grumbled and grabbed the beer the curly had just opened. He protested as you took a sip. Tom gave you a curious look and you frowned behind your bottle.

"y/n?”

"I don't know where T is, but Harrison's gone on a date with Gracie."

The two brothers exchanged a look heard in the face of the bitterness they had perceived in your voice. It was no longer much of a secret that you had feelings for Harrison. You had feelings for Tom's best friend for almost as long as you'd met him. Harry had noticed it first, because you were much closer to him than to Tom. The actor had understood at the start of an evening, at the beginning of the relationship between Harrison and his girlfriend.

However, you didn't hate Gracie. She was beautiful, kind, and very funny. She really brought out the best in Harrison, she made him happy and you could see that because of the distinct smile on his face. You didn't hate her; she just wasn't you and you just weren't her. And that was the whole problem. Jealousy consumed you and you hated yourself for it.

“Are you alright, darling?” Tom asked you since silence filled the room after your last sentence.

"I'll be fine after one more drink" you simply answered.

You took a sip of the beer you stole from Harry. Drowning in alcohol was certainly not the solution. But you just wanted to forget the blond a bit for tonight. Tom's worried look made you roll your eyes.

"Oh come on, Tom. Don't give me those eyes. I will be fine ..."

“Yeah, sure.” he said with a doubt.

"Can we just watch a silly movie or play a silly game to make my night better?"

Harry seemed to hear you as he shrugged and took a sip of his drink. He knew you by heart. At this point, he really considered you his best friend. So he knew you needed something to clear your mind. Something where your mind should be quick to think about.

“One,” he said nonchalantly.

"Two" you responded with a huge smile on your face.

"You are both stupid." the Holland elder complained about the game you had just started.

"You say that because you're a lousy actor who can't remember his lines. Play Holland!"

"Three". He capitulated.

And you continued like this until 21. Then, there followed a multitude of rule additions each time you reach the number 21. The 7 turned into "I'm a poor liar", the 18 into "I'd rather kiss a guinea pig" ... And every time one of you made a mistake, he drank. After an hour, the game looked like a strange conversation from the outside.

"Squirrels are scary, man." Harry said, mimicking his older brother.

"Black Widow is the best president of the United States" Tom said

"But she’s a bad lay." you responded, with a fake sigh of disappointment

"I'd rather kiss a guinea pig"

"Because you have no taste"

"Twenty"

It was at this precise moment, in the middle of the conversation, that Harrison decided to enter the living room. His blissful smile gave way to an air of amazement and disbelief at the talk between his three roommates. It was Tom who first noticed his best friend. He nodded to greet him. Harrison wore a simple black t-shirt with chinos. You took a look at your roommate and your cheeks flushed a little more than they already were.

"Hello mate! How was your date?" asked Tom with a big smile on his face

"Awesome. Can't believe it will be a year in 3 freaking days." Harrison said.

You could see his large smile, and blissful air. He was sweating happiness and although you were happy for him, it tore your heart. You purse your lips to avoid comment. Harry spoke up.

"We're playing 21. Do you want to land with us?"

"In fact, you can take my place." You got up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen to drop off your beer drain. Harrison frowned as Tom exchanged a new look with his brother.

"y/n, you can stay, It's an unlimited players game." Harry almost begged.

"No, I'm tired. I'm going to take a shower and then go to bed."

“y/n” Harrison tried to call you to hold you back a little longer.

But you were already gone. You've never climbed the stairs so fast to run away from your roommate/best friend. Harrison looked at Tom and Harry, worried about your behavior. The curly one just shrugged his shoulders as his brother shook his head, silent. They weren't intending to get involved in this. You were the only master of your feelings and the time you'll decide to confess them to Harrison. That is why they preferred to be quiet.

☙♡❧

You spent the whole next week to avoid Harrison as much as possible. Established more distance with him was your solution to protect yourself from your feelings especially after his one-year anniversary date with Gracie and his absolute cute instagram post. It broke you down. Your heart was in peace but you couldn't blame him or his girlfriend. You were in love with the wrong guy, that's all.

But you couldn't hide from him forever. After all, you both lived in the same house, you had the same friends. So, it was hard to pretend he didn't exist.

Today was not your lucky day. You bumped into him in the kitchen. That was his opportunity to hold you down. He grabbed you by the shoulders, preventing you from burying yourself. Now he would finally find out what was wrong with you. Because Harrison wasn't a fool. He had noticed that you acted with him differently. Your behavior remained unchanged towards the other boys in the house.

“y/n. Don’t avoid me; please, please y/n, look at me”

You have plunged your eyes into its bewitching blue irises. Big mistake. You were drowning now in the turmoil of your feelings for the blonde. He had always had that effect on you, always. Tears started to bead at the corners of your eyes, you were biting your lip to hold back the torrent of tears that was already beginning to flow. Harrison's throat tightened at the sight of you like that and his hold on your shoulders slowly loosened.

“I hate seeing you like this. Please talk to me” he almost begged you

“Harrison…” your voice struggle as soon you pronounced his name.

“Please darling…tell me what’s goin’ on”

As a perfect angel, Tom was the one who saved you by interrupting this quick talk. You wiped away your tears with the end of your sleeve and run away to your room. Harrison sighed in despair. He didn't understand why you were running away from him like the plague.

“Dude, do you know why she's like that. What did I do? » He finally asked to Tom.

"I can't tell you Haz. She's the only one having the right to tell you about this"

"Bullshit. Fuck you all." Harrison said, frustrated.

Then he just quit, leaving the kitchen.

☙♡❧

Sunday came and Tom asked you all to spend the night with him before his LA trip the next evening. It was a normal night with friends. And despite your pent-up feelings and wanting to avoid Harrison at all costs, you didn't want to miss Tom, he was your friend.

There was only the usual gang: Harry, Tuwaine, Tom (obviously) and you. But the tension was felt within the group. The lingering unspoken words about your feelings for Harrison were beginning to weigh on all of your friendship. It was so bad that it hurts to stay in the same room as Harrison. All you could see was his constant happiness, this wonderful man he had always been but in a more radiant version of himself. And you weren't the cause of that. You hated it, you hated being selfish that much. You were ready to sacrifice your friendship with the young Netflix actor for two reasons: you wanted to protect yourself ... and you weren't ready to be that obstacle in the midst of Harrison and Grace's happiness.

You were in the kitchen with Harry, pretending to help him with drinks and snacks. The curly boy could see you dragging your feet, repeating like a mantra this phrase "come on, you can do it ... do it for Tom, it's his night. Don’t be selfish, you can make it." And you really wanted it ... have a good time with your friends.

Sometimes Harry felt guilty for introducing Gracie to Harrison. They worked together as set PA in 2018 and became close friends but not as close as you were with him. You considered him like your best friend. It made sense for him to feel a bit responsible for your broken heart. But you never said a word about it.

“I’m sorry, y/n” confessed Harry.

“For what?” you simply responded.

"For having hampered your happiness. I was stupid to introduce Grace to Harrison and ignore your feelings. I wanted to help my friend. "

"Bullshit Harry. Never apologize for that. You've been a great friend to Harrison."

"But not for you."

"Who cares?" you asked, trying to minimize your feelings

"Me ... you are one of my best friend y/n"

"Just like Harrison is your best friend. Don't apologize for making him happy. Fuck, I'm the one who should apologize." You said, with a tone of anger and despair in your voice

And that's how you crack, breaking in all your sensitivity. You couldn't hold back your tears from falling as you blasted everything that was on your heart. You don't even realize that Harrison is a few feet behind your back. The weight of your feelings, your anxieties explode in the kitchen as when a cup is dropped on the immaculate tiled floor.

“What I got to do to make him love me? What I got to do to make him care? Not as the sweet friend Harry. I’m deeply in love with him and it’s gonna drive me insane! What I got to do to make him want me? Huh Harry, can you tell me? All those question in my head…and no answer to that. And you know what? It's sad, sad situation…more than that it’s a shitty situation, because I'm getting away from him and it makes us sick. Because I'm unable to tell him why.”

“You just told me.” Harrison finally said.

You jumped for a second before you froze. Harry is caught off guard and rushes into the living room stammering an apology. You are trapped. You are trapped and you can hear the footsteps of your roommate coming closer to you, so close, that now you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. Gently, he places his hands on your arms and exerts pressure for you to face him.

"You love me"

"It depends ..." you replied with difficulty

"On what?"

"On what you heard before."

"Enough that you can't contradict me."

Her thin smile doesn't help you relax. Instead, you look down, admiring your two pairs of feet. You felt like being stripped naked and you didn't like that feeling. If you could have kept this secret in your grave. But now he knew and you felt even heavier than the Titanic.

"So ... is that it? Nothing more to tell me?"

"What do you want me to add to what you've already heard?"

"Sorry?" he tried.

"For what?"

"For what? y/n are you kidding me? Sorry for being distant with me, maybe? Sorry for hiding all these things from you? Sorry for not trusting our friendship to come to me and speak?" he exploded…

"What would that have been for, Harrison? You don't love me back…" you screamed back.

"I ... I’m ..."

"See, sorry seems to be the hardest word."

After that last ironic reply, silence fell in the kitchen. So was that it? Was that how your friendship was to end? The great giants of the universe had reserved this dramatic scene for you to break years of bonding. You didn't know how to get out of this situation. You didn't even know if there was a few more things to save. You were broken and had just spoiled the happiness of one of your best friends.

Harrison was silent. He seemed to be probing your body, your attitude, analyzing any gesture that might give him the opportunity to take a step towards you. But the solution was there, finding everything ... It was enough, for both of you, to swallow your pride.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" you echo your previous conversation

"Sorry for not feeling the same as you. For not being who you want me to be to you."

"You know ... I don't hate her."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Gracie. I don't hate her. She makes you really happy. I just hate the jealousy I feel towards her… I hate that I am not her. But I don’t hate her, she's a really good girl."

A small smile dawned on Harrison's lips, the blonde toyed nervously with his fingers and the ring he always wore as an accessory.

"Yeah ... yeah she's great."

"I'm really sorry ... about everything."

"It's ok. We don't control how we feel. I..I can understand"

"Yeah..."

"y/n?" he tried; a little bit shy about what he’s gonna ask.

"Mhmm?"

"Do you think we can be friends again?"

You bow your head, taking a minute to think. Was everything really broken? Were you going to be able to rebuild a solid friendship after this conversation? Were you going to be able to squeeze out your feelings? You sighed before plunging into those beautiful blue eyes that you loved so much.

"Maybe. I hope so with all my heart."

"I hope so too. And I hope you find someone like I found Grace."

"You can always dream. You dripping with love, it's impossible to find someone like you two."

"Don't despair. He might be closer than you think."

He winked at you and you looked at him confused. But after a few seconds, a smile appeared at the corner of your lips. No, you had no hope of him talking about him. But you were happy, because that little sentence opened the door for you to a bond that you were trying to find.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Weight of Living

Vibe.

Perhaps today was not your day, and it hasn't been yours for the past week either. In the end of it all when the weight of living brings you to tired tears, he would be there to tell you it will be alright.

Pairings -> Zhongli x Reader

Word Count -> 1161

Themes -> Comfort fic bitch, angst of course, but we're gonna get fluffy for arc reasons

Series -> #SojournerSpecials (Event Masterlist)

Warnings -> Mean brain, depression, and all that comes with it

You've been silently struggling for the past few days.

Alone with your thoughts, of a heavy dread clinging to your chest in days when the silence lets your mind stray, you find it harder to get up in the morning. The weight in your chest and on your shoulder appeared randomly, and you hoped that it will pass just the same way. Sudden, like a bubble's burst.

But it didn't.

And that's where the problem lied.

Daily you walk through your day hoping to fight off what's inside your head in a battle of wait. You don't know what's wrong, what's wrong with you, what's wrong in you; you don't know how to deal with it this time.

And everyday of hoping it leaves turns into accumulated weight, dread and exhaustion.

It started scaring you that maybe you're not gonna feel better ever again.

Today is your breaking point. It had you shedding tears that wouldn't come out despite your desperation to let them flow.

Waking up to get ready for work, you accidentally broke your favorite mug, the only one matching with Zhongli's (the only one he uses as he's usually cradling a teacup). The shards managed to nip at your skin too, making it bleed more than you expected it to be.

You stood there for a second, staring at the mess and blood before you heard heavy footsteps approach from the corridor of your humble home.

It didn't hurt but it must be due to your numbness, as you hurriedly cleaned up both the broken glass and your small wound. "I heard something break from the living room, are you alright, dearest?"

"It's all cleaned up, don't worry." You managed to smile this one off, not wanting him to worry.

The rest of the day you were running errands for work, which is totally not part of your job description. It felt unfair that despite being one of the hardworking people in the workplace, the extra work was still placed on your shoulders while the rest slack around.

"What do you mean it's not there?! It should be there, go back and use your eyes!"

"But I already-" before you could finish, you held your tongue and went back to the storage house to fetch the box your boss asked you to retrieve.

Three, four, five times you checked the whole place from top to bottom.

So many times that your head started spinning.

Defeated and nauseous, you made your way back to the building. Not before seeing the box you've been looking for just behind the door this whole time.

The look of condescension on the man you call your boss disgusts you so much you really wanted to punch it off of him.

And the worst case was the simplest one, when you thought you'd be free from the bad luck of today and be given the liberty to just lie in bed. There was an obvious frown on your face as you gripped your bag's strap closer. It felt heavier than before.

Your sluggish steps almost made you slip when a force knocks you from the side, a shoulder bumping you as the person responsible just walks off, "Hey, can't you watch your fucking step!" You yelled with unbottled fury as you whirled around, tired yet ready to tell off the rude person -

When you were met with the face of a child in the brink of tears.

"How dare you swear at my child like that!" A woman obscures your view as you were pushed by the shoulder. Your mouth, dry and hoarse, mumbled desperate apologies as the image of fear in the child's eyes imprinted itself into your mind.

You're horrible.

You're a monster.

You're so stupid.

"Get out of here, you pest to Liyue-"

A pair of gloved hands cupped your wet cheeks gently, coaxing you out of your flashback to stare at amber ones. When the tears started flowing, you have no clue, but they won't stop even in the view of the man you didn't want to see right now.

Didn't want you to see you like this right now.

"I have been calling for your name but you do not seem to hear me. Are you sure you are alright, dearest?" You nodded your head in a vain attempt of a lie yet your eyes betrayed you as it let out more tears. Zhongli smiles as he easily wipes away the tears with his thumbs. "There is no need to lie now, pour it all on me and I will listen."

Your silent waterfall turned into sobs and hiccups, the words coming out as a blabbering mess yet he nods to let you know he understands.

Fingers gripped around his wrist as you told him about everything; about today, about yesterday, about last week.

Your sigh was heavy as you find the words to say of how tired and exhausted you are from all the burden you're feeling. You've done stupid things, said foolish things, and you're scared that one day you'd be eaten by the heavy feeling. That it will never stop. Until, until-

"It's alright, it's okay. You're not a demon, there's a reason you behaved in that way."

You snapped your head up to face him fully, words at the tip of your tongue to counter -

"And I believe that you would see a better day, it's alright."

Coaxing your head with a hand on your back, you muffled your sobs and cries on his suit-covered chest. Finally letting everything out, all the tears that wouldn't flow and the choked sobs you kept hidden. Through this whole experience he was patient and comforting, stroking your hair the way you've always liked and even subtly swaying side to side to lull you more.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, the both of you started slow dancing in the dark. His right hand finding yours as he guides your sluggish steps, your tears subsiding to sniffles and sobs into tired giggles. Perhaps it was distraction that he was good at in making your tears stop, an unexpected breakthrough.

"You're a human and you've made a few mistakes. Just human. It's alright, it's okay-"

"I'm alright, I'm okay..." Zhongli's soft smile is as comforting and reminiscent of the warmth of the sun. Silently urging with a nod, his arm around your waist pulls you closer, "I'm a human, and I've made a few mistakes."

His ever-growing smile had your lips finally break into one too. Even if just a little, the weight in your chest, the weight on your shoulders ease up for another day.

Your fears may still be there but he's with you now, next to you and guiding you.

"If it is too heavy, do not forget that I am here to help you carry the burden. Together, for I am here now, to fight off what's inside your head."

You'll see a better day.

I finally wrote my comfort fic, been feeling not poggers lately so I whipped it up :) I hope it helps to those who needs it, even tho I just realized it's a totally different writing style what the fu-

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 2 (Nessian AU)

A/N: DO inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: Abuse and Swearing

1957 words | Part 1 | Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassian was waiting. And waiting. And waiting. He waited for the day he would forget the woman’s face. He waited for the day he could close his eyes without seeing her blue-grey eyes blazing in anger. He waited for the day he wouldn’t burn his bacon because he was thinking about her.

He had mused, how the face of a stranger was branded into his mind vividly. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered if they’ve known each other before or have seen each other somewhere, anywhere before the day in the mall—even if on photographs or at an event or at another shopping mall. Still, he desperately wanted to forget about her. He wanted to forget that she ever existed. He wanted to forget their encounter in the mall that day. He wanted to forget everything about her, even though deep down, he knew what he wanted was far from forgetting her.

But he couldn’t afford this. He couldn’t afford to think about her at all times. He was getting distracted at work. His part-time job as a martial-arts instructor and as a sommelier was in a precarious position if it went on like this. He nearly tore one of his student’s muscles in his centre and got at least 5 orders wrong at the restaurant he was working at.

On a Saturday noon, Cassian decided the best way to clear his head was to dive into a war book or reread Secrets Of The Sommeliers for probably the millionth time.

* * *

Nesta flinched at the sudden ping of the oven timer. Again. She’d been thinking about him again. This was the fourth time in the whole week when she burned her cheese sandwich and she was getting so tired of this. She urgently needed a way to stop thinking about him. To stop seeing his insufferable grin whenever she closed her eyes. To stop thinking about him at almost all times.

It struck her as odd, the fact they didn’t even know each other’s names but she kept seeing his face as if they’ve known each other before. She gasped. What if they had known each other before? What if they were probably neighbours from Nesta’s old house or classmates or maybe they went to the same college. Nesta shook her head.

But why should she care? No, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care what his name is or if he even has a name. She doesn’t care if she’s had the misfortune of seeing him before or if that was the first she’s seeing him. Or so she kept telling herself. She couldn’t afford to have him occupy her thoughts. She had better things to do. But all these excuses weren't enough to stop her from still thinking about him.

Nesta looked at her clock. It was a Saturday, almost noon. Maybe reading a spicy book or two will help.

* * *

Cassian loved the House of Wind library and bookstore. They had a variety of books in almost any genre. He'll admit though, that some of the librarians here are better left alone. He was lucky he came here often and therefore knew a handful of the merrier librarians. He made a beeline for his favourite section, books related to wine, best books for sommeliers.

On his way to the shelves he had committed to memory, he realised that there was a big poster about their annual Free Premium Membership Fest where 20 fortunate, early birds would get their membership card updated to premium with a number of privileges. Cassian's whole being was elevated. He missed the last fest they held and had been waiting for the next fest. He wondered how he could forget such an important thing. Oh. Right. Of course. A certain lady was occupying his thoughts. He sighed. He forgot about that too.

He was quite disappointed when he reached the counter. The fest started yesterday and the computer stated that there was only one person left till 20. What truly disappointed him was that Clotho wasn't at the counter as she usually was. Maybe she'll be in the—

“If you're done staring at the computer maybe you could deign to move so it can really serve its purpose of being a public property?” Cass froze. He'd know that voice anywhere. This was the voice taunting him at all times. “And if you have coffee in your hands, I'd suggest you turn slowly.”

He smirked. So she knew who she was talking to.

“Well, looks like the damage would be lesser this time since your clothes aren't white,” he observed.

“I figured black would hide stains caused by ogling, clumsy people better than white,” she said. “Now, if you could move, I want to register for the Membership Fest.”

“Register? What do you mean by ‘I want to register for the Membership Fest’?”

“A register, you know,” she teased, “Something like a form where you fill your details if you want to join something?” She smirked at his glare.

“Well,” he said, “if there is a register let me fill it first.”

“Because your ego is bigger?”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” he dead-panned. “I came here first.”

“Here as in the counter or the library? Because I’m pretty sure I stepped into this library first.”

Cassian quickly checked the database where the information of all members appeared. He turned back to her with a self-satisfied smirk. “The database shows otherwise, sweetheart.”

She scowled. “I don’t believe you. You might’ve tampered with the information.”

He moved slightly to the side to give her a better view. Her scowled deepened.

She rounded on him. “You,” seethed. “You did—”

“Hello,” a new, shy voice said.

“Hey, Gwyn,” they both said in symphony.

A look of surprise crossed over her features before it faded away. When the woman turned to Gwyn, she wore a huge smile. “Oh, look, she smiles,” he muttered, earning him a glare.

“Is the fest still on?” Cassian asked.

Gwyneth Berdara, one of the joyful librarians here, said, “Unfortunately, not. We just got our 20th member.”

Cassian’s face fell. He noticed the same of the woman too. Gwyn, always the optimistic one, said cheerfully, “Maybe we could reserve one for the both of you next year?”

They both murmured their assent before Gwyn offered her farewell and went back to the staffroom.

The woman turned back to him. “This is all your fault,” she hissed and stalked out of the library, leaving Cassian more confused than ever.

* * *

Nesta went to the library to find solace or at least a semblance of it. Seeing the man there, however, left Nesta more rattled than she would care to admit. Rattled, and angry. Angry at the universe for giving them these unfortunate encounters. Angry at him for following her wherever she went. Angry at herself for feeling such futile emotions. Angry at her body for reacting to him.

She was also upset that she didn’t get a free premium member cr

Nesta was so occupied with her thoughts and emotions that she didn’t realise she was taking the wrong route. She wasn’t familiar with this part of Velaris. She also didn’t realise she was being followed. It was distinct, the sound of hushed breathing, of the soft thuds of footfalls. The footsteps sounded heavier which most probably meant it was a man. She couldn’t really be sure, though. This was a person who was not experienced in stalking but was trying hard enough.

Nesta knew she shouldn’t panic but couldn’t help the bout of fear that crashed through her. Nesta tried to stay calm. She tried to make sure she didn't quicken her pace. She tried, cauldron, she really did. But her fear was slowly overpowering her senses. She felt the urge to run away from her stalker.

But that wouldn’t be wise. Running away from her stalker isn’t a good choice. It wasn’t smart. Who’s to know he wasn’t armed? What if he was faster than her? What if her stalker was faster than her? He might be stronger too. He could over power her and cage her in. She didn’t even know what his motive was.

Then, Nesta made a ridiculously huge, dumb mistake. She turned to an abandoned alley. At least it looked abandoned. She let out a frustrated breath. Running away was at least better than getting stuck in an alley. So much for ‘that wouldn't be wise’. She looked around, trying to get a sense of where she was or if there were any means of escape, however meager it might be.

Suddenly, she was slammed to the alley wall. The rough cold stone was unforgiving and unyielding under her cheek. Her windpipe was closed off and she was struggling to get some air in. She fought to get free but her captor —a man, as she guessed— was too strong. Somehow, his hands felt familiar to her. As if she were long acquainted with this person’s touch.

“What do you want?” she gasped out.

He chuckled, the sound grating through her very bones.

“My little Nesta,” he whispered, his hot breath ghosting the shell of her ear. “Ever the stubborn one.”

That voice. It was one that she couldn’t forget as hard as she tried. Tomas Mandray, her ex-boyfriend, was someone not easily forgotten.

“Tomas,” she said. She couldn’t bring herself to be nice. Not now, not after how he treated her. “What the fuck do you want? Let me go.”

“I see you haven’t changed at all.”

“I can say the same of you.”

“Mhm. You broke up with me and then you called the police. Got me stuck behind bars for two fucking months.”

“Good riddance,” she muttered.

He slammed her head against the wall. Hard. Blinding pain shot through her. He yanked her hair so hard she was afraid chunks of it came out. Her head only throbbed harder.

“Manners were never your cup of tea,” he hissed.

“You were not that kind either. You were an empowering, possessive bastard and I don’t regret watching you grovel to the police for freedom for one fucking moment and I won’t ever.”

He growled and slammed her head against the wall again. She cried out and was pretty sure she heard something crack. She felt the metallic tang of blood on her lips, streaming from her nose freely.

“Oh, you will. You’ll regret everything. Every. Single. Thing. For your whole god-damned life. I’ll make sure of it, bitch,” he promised.

He tightened his grip on her hair that sent another wave of agony through her. She caught the glint of something in the fading sunlight. A knife. Of course he had a knife.

He had a knife while she was a mess, kneeling on an alley, completely at the mercy of one of the people who hated her the most. Pathetic. So, so, pathetic. She hated herself for whimpering. She hated herself for being this weak. She hated that she had gotten panicked enough that she turned to an alley, where no one would know.

Here, in this unknown alley, with the person she hated the most, Nesta Archeron was going to die. She was going to die a death as unknown as the place she was in. Maybe even without her sisters knowing. Shit. Her sisters. If only she showed all her love to sweet Elain and brave Feyre, if only she even went to meet her brother-in-laws, Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian, maybe things would’ve been different. She closed her eyes, fighting the emotion in her throat. I’m sorry Elain, Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian, I’m so, so sorry, was the last thing in her head before she felt acute pain and succumbed to the dragging talons of oblivion.

taglist:

@im-someone-i-guess @shadowsinger07 @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele

[squiggledrop]

Reforget - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Both Reader and Spencer have feelings for each other. Reader kisses Spencer, but he runs away and ignores her. - Song fic to Reforget by Lauv

Word Count: 3k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff (NSFW, 18+)

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual implications, Crying, Angst, Fluff,

Didn't wanna be a ghost

But you pushed me over and over

Never thought I'd have a vice

Other than you, over and over

It had been three weeks since you and Spencer first kissed, and two weeks and six days since you both decided you were better as friends. Well, since Spencer had decided for the both of you. When it happened, the two of you were walking out of the BAU together, ready to head home. You had had a crush on Spencer since your first day a couple of months ago, and the two of you quickly became good friends. Unbeknownst to you, Spencer also had a crush on you, but was much too insecure to ever act on it. As you made your way to your car, you grabbed Spencer’s arm as he was about to turn and say goodnight. You didn’t know where this spur of confidence came from, but you were running with it. You gave him a peck on the lips, which caused his face to turn into a tomato. 

“I’m so sorry”, you blurted out in shock, “I don’t know what I was-”. You were cut off by Spencer cupping your cheeks and placing his mouth back on yours. For the first time in Spencer’s life, his brain couldn’t keep up, and he was on you before he could even process what was happening. The kiss was fueled by passion and the hidden feelings between you both were almost palpable. When you pulled apart you stared into each other’s eyes, full of lust and desire, however, as Spencer finally realized what had just happened, his eyes grew wider and a film of terror masked his face. 

“Uh, night”, he stated blankly before darting off. You tried to call out to him, but it was no use as you couldn’t seem to form any words. You stood there in shock. Every emotion coursed through your body. You were terrified because you just kissed Spencer Reid. You were elated because Spencer Reid kissed you back! But, you were crushed because Spencer Reid just kissed you and ran off like it was the biggest mistake of his life.

Left you in the sky with the fire below

Thought I had it right, but I'm still

Lost in the light

As you drove home you replayed the events of the night over, and over again in your head, trying to make sense of what just happened. He kissed you back. That had to mean something. 

Spencer rode the subway in silence, just staring out the window, reminiscing how your lips felt on his. He was beating himself up for running away like that, but he couldn’t handle the thought of you rejecting him. When you kissed him his mind went blank and when you pulled away he put his lips right back where they belong. The only problem was, as he was kissing you, your words finally registered in his head: I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. He knew kissing you back was a mistake and he couldn’t bear look you in the eye after you had apologized for kissing him. 

When you got home, you looked at the screen of your phone through tear-filled eyes. You made out Spencer’s blurry contact in your texts.

To Spencer: Hey, can we talk about earlier?

Spencer heard his phone buzz and blinked back the tears welling in his eyes. It was a text from you asking to talk. Great, he thought to himself, you probably wanted to apologize again because kissing him was just that horrible. Spencer opted to save himself anymore hurt and ignored your text. He threw his phone on the couch and went to bed.

To Spencer: Can you at least let me know you got home okay?

To Spencer: Spence, please?

The tears streaming down your face became too much, so you decided to just leave him be. Fine, if he wants to be a jerk who just kisses you and runs away then so be it. You left the ball in his court, so it was his move. You had no energy to do anything else.

The only problem was, Spencer was never good at sports, or confrontation for that matter. This led to the two of you not speaking the following morning, or the following two weeks and six days. The team knew something had happened because normally you two were inseparable, but now they were lucky if you could even stay in the same room for more than 30 seconds. You avoided each other, not wanting to be faced with the devastating truth. You came to the conclusion that Spencer’s lack of response was his response. He clearly wanted nothing to do with you. Spencer on the other hand felt so guilty about ignoring you, but he knew he would break down if you told him kissing him was a mistake, and for a man who relied on facts and statistics, he wasn’t willing to face the truth.

And I don't know what night it is

You're somewhere else, I'm drinking not to guess

It had been three weeks of avoiding each other and the team knew that they had to do something.

“Hey! Why don’t we all go and get drinks!”, Penelope suggested after a taxing case. It had been a long time since the whole team did something fun together, and they thought this way they could get you two drunk enough to finally tell them what was going on.

“I-I don’t really feel like it…”, Spencer said softly as he grabbed his coat and bag.

“Oh come on pretty boy! It’ll be fun!”, Derek said as he patted Spencer on the back.

“I could definitely afford to get wasted”, you huffed, sneaking a glare at Spencer. He avoided your glance and reluctantly agreed to go for a little while.

When you all got to the bar, you and Spencer sat as far away from each other as possible. He slowly sipped on a beer as you, JJ, Emily, and Penelope went to the bar to order. He watched as you downed a line of shots, and he sunk further into his seat. 

You did four shots, gaining amazed, and slightly concerned looks from the girls. They knew whatever happened must have been really bad because you clearly wanted to forget everything.

“Whoo! Come on! Let’s dance!”, they couldn’t say no to that, so the four of you made your way to the dance floor. Penelope traded a knowing look at Derek who joined her. Spencer sat and watched as you all danced and jumped around, a light sheen of sweat forming on your forehead. You looked so beautiful and free, he thought to himself, but he quickly pushed the thought away and took a swig of beer.

You wanted so desperately to forget about Spencer, who discarded your entire friendship over one stupid night, but you couldn’t. The way the dim lights outlined his face made your heart race. All you wanted was to kiss him again. You had to do something to get your mind off of him. You thought the alcohol would help, but your intoxicated state was only making your feelings stronger.

Blurry bodies, but you're on my mind

We let it go now I'm full of rum and regret

I go out just so I can reforget

You jumped as you felt a hand on your waist. You turned to see a tall, handsome man with smirking eyes. Normally when in this situation you would tell the guy to fuck off because honestly you were repulsed by any guy who felt the need to grab a random woman’s waist at a bar. However, tonight, you found the unwarranted touch empowering. This is what you needed, you told yourself, some guy to help you forget about Spencer. 

Spencer’s eyes grew with anger as he saw the guy, who wasn’t him, dance up against you. He ran his hands all over your body, causing Spencer’s blood to boil. The worst part was that you seemed to be enjoying it. Normally when a guy approaches you at the bar, you find Spencer so he’ll give up and move onto some other girl. You always made Spencer feel special because he knew you trusted him to keep you safe. But now, seeing you grind against that arrogant man, in a way he has never seen you move before, was more than he could handle.

You hated yourself for what you were doing, knowing you would regret it in the morning, but it felt nice to be desired after three weeks of Spencer ignoring you. That’s why, when the guy pressed his lips against yours, you reciprocated will full force. 

“Do you want to get out of here?”, he whispered in your ear. You nodded, using all your willpower to not turn around and look at Spencer. He didn’t want you. He made that very clear. Why shouldn’t you go home with this guy? He was hot, a good kisser...not as good as Spencer...No! Stop! This is good. This is what you need.

Spencer felt a single tear roll down his cheek as that man kissed you. The salty taste consumed his mouth as he watched you leave the bar, your hands interlocked. He watched your blurred silhouettes leave as he broke down in tears. 

Two more footsteps on the wood floor, but it ain't you

I'm faded so I bring someone home

You opened the door to your apartment and he pushed you up against the wall, tracing your body with kisses. You moaned at the sensation, but when you closed your eyes, all you could see what Spencer. 

The guy, whose name you still hadn’t even bothered to find out, began to lift your top, running his fingers on your bare waist. At this, all you could think about was how much you wished that this guy was Spencer. Fuck, you thought, as tears brimmed your eyes. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’m just really tired…”, you said as you pushed the guy off of you.

“Oh, okay”, he forced a smile to hide his disappointment.

You walked to your bedroom, tears running down your cheeks, hoping he would just take the hint and leave. As you closed your bedroom door, you heard your front door close. You laid down on your bed and let yourself do the one thing you wouldn’t let yourself do all night: think about Spencer.

Already paying for tonight

Head spins like a carousel, over and over

Spencer had left not long after you. He made his way back to his apartment, where the only images protruding his brain were of you under that guy and him making you feel the way Spencer wanted to make you feel. He couldn’t get the thought of you moaning some other guy’s name out of his head. 

He tried to sleep but it was no use. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was you. That’s it, he thought. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to go see you. He looked over at his alarm clock: 3:28 am. Well, at least at this point he wouldn’t interrupt whatever activities the two of you had gotten up to. God, he hoped he wouldn’t walk in on that.

The short drive to your apartment felt like a lifetime. He thought about what he would say, how he would explain himself. He wanted you to know how much you mean to him, even if you didn’t feel the same. 

I never thought a sunrise

Could burn more than a midnight without you

You had been trying to sleep for hours, but it was no use. Images of Spencer filled your head. You were still pissed at him for ignoring you for the past few weeks, but to be honest, what hurt more was how empty you felt without him next to you. You missed how he would lay his head on your shoulder when he would fall asleep on the jet after long cases, you missed hearing his laugh every time you made a stupid joke at your desks, but mostly, you just missed talking to your best friend.

Spencer finally made it to your apartment and was relieved to not be greeted with any muffled moans. He stood at your door for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He scrounged up an ounce of courage and put his knuckles to your door. 

You jolted up as you heard a knock at your door. Confused, and exhausted from crying, you quickly wiped away your tears and headed for the door. Shock set in as you saw who it was.

When you opened the door, Spencer was met with your red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. His hair was more disheveled than normal, like he had been running his hands through it, which he always did when he was overwhelmed on a case. 

“What are you doing here?”, you croaked out, annoyance lacing your voice, after a few moments of silence. Spencer looked you up and down and his eyes softened at your current state. His heart twinged at the sight of you so upset. He secretly hoped you were only upset because of him and not because that idiot guy did something to hurt you when he wasn’t there for you.

“I just, I needed to tell you I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that, and I’m sorry”, he paused, waiting for your reaction. When you just stood there, unsure of what to say, he continued, “Are you okay? You-”

“Okay?!”, you cut him off, “Am I okay?! I don’t know Spence! Would you be okay if your best friend ignored you for three weeks just because of one stupid mistake?!” The pain in your voice broke through the anger as you choked back tears. It hurt him to see you in this much pain, especially because of something he did, but, what sent a sharp twinge through his heart, was hearing you admit that it was a mistake. He knew you would regret it. He should never have come. He turned to leave before you could see his own tears forming.

“Oh that’s it! Just leave me again!”, you sobbed. He snapped his head back around.

“Well, I’m sorry! But don’t you get it! I didn’t ignore you just to be a jerk! I can’t stand to look at you without breaking down. I’m- I’m sorry that I love you so much that it physically pains me to know you don’t feel the same.” You just stare at him, your eyes growing wider. “God, (y/n), I’m sorry but you can’t blame me for not wanting to talk to you after you realized kissing me was such a horrible thing. I’m sorry I’m not as hot or good of a dancer as that guy at the bar. And I’m sorry that seeing you leave with him and do who knows what literally kills me inside”, by now Spencer was sobbing. You still couldn’t bring yourself to react, still shocked by what he had said: he loves you.

Spencer let out a sigh and turned to leave again, only this time you grabbed his arm, just like that night three weeks ago, and placed a kiss to his lips. He quickly pulled away, not knowing whether you did it out of pity or to make fun of him.

“Spence…”, you looked into his eyes, “I never said kissing you was a mistake. C’mon, you’re the one who has an eidetic memory”. You expected him to at least let out a chuckle, but he replied sternly.

“You just said that night was a ‘stupid mistake’”, he huffed. Your face softened and you took a deep breath.

“I didn’t mean kissing you was a mistake”, you whispered, “I just-when you left after kissing me, I just-I thought”, you sighed, “I was so confused Spencer, cause that was the best kiss of my entire life, and then when you left and wouldn’t respond to my texts, I just assumed you didn’t want anything to do with me.” When he still didn’t say anything, you asked, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”, he sheepishly asked.

“That you love me”, you said with a small smile. He finally looked you in the eye and mirrored your grin.

“Of course I love you, (y/n)”, he admitted matter of factually. You were about to kiss him again when he backed away and asked, “Wait, what exactly happened between you and that guy from the bar…”

“Oh”, you let out a coy laugh, “Sorry you had to see that… We came back here, but nothing happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much I wished it was you instead of him-”

“Really?”

“Of course… Spence...I love you too. That’s why I kissed you. When I pulled away at first it wasn’t because I was sorry I did it, I just was sorry in case I made you uncomfortable because I- I didn’t want to lose you…”

Spencer stared at you before enveloping you in a hug and wrapping one hand around your waist and the other in your hair. You placed your arms around his shoulders and rubbed your thumb on the back of his neck.

“I promise, you’re never going to lose me again”, he said as he kissed your head. You looked up at him and brought him in for a kiss. This one was just as passionate as the one you shared all those weeks ago, only it was gentler and more sensual. You grasped each other as if your lives depended on it. You continued your kiss as your salty tears mixed with the taste of alcohol in your mouths, but neither of you cared. When you finally broke apart for air, you embraced each other in another hug.

“Let’s go to bed”, you whispered in his ear. Spencer hummed in response and picked you up, earning a loud giggle from you. He put you down on the bed and crawled in with you. He pulled you close to his chest as you placed your face in the crook of his neck. The two of you closed your eyes and were finally able to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks, comforted by the presence of one another.

[impaladolan]

Capture - Grayson Dolan [ae]

summary: somehow, someway, y/n was rescued from her enstranglements and open to the world again..

warnings: lil smut & swearing!

a/n: sadly, this is the last part of capture :( i hope you enjoyed this little series! ily, mwah💕

later note: this is now an alternate ending, i am continuing this fic!

part one, part two, part three.

In the moonlit hours of the night, where the nocturnal animals are out and about, the slight creak of a door radiated through the room of which you lie awake and sleepless in. You didn't dare to move, but rather freeze. You held your breath and squinted your eyes towards the door, where a shadowy figure entered with ease and quietness. "Are you awake?" The shadow of a man calls in a whisper, edging nearer and nearer towards you. You decided not to answer, internally preparing yourself for whatever was to happen.

You had finally given up.

It's been presumably a month since that fateful morning run that lead to where you are now, stuck in a house you've barely ventured. You felt disgusting and a far different person from who you once were before. It's been a week since you've showered, to ward off the man you've named asshole. You've gone blank, almost mute. You haven't talked in days and you don't plan to. But what looks to be a man, in the dark, in front of you had altered your motives. "Y/N, I've come to take you home. We don't have much time." Hands begin to shake your shoulders as the unfamiliar voice awakes you from your thoughts. "How?" Your voice comes out raspy, breaking a fresh load of tears that you haven't been able to cry in days. "Come with me, and be quiet." He orders as he pulls your hands to help you out of bed.

He presses his fingers against his lips, faintly saying "It's okay," to calm your overwhelming nerves. He leads the way, opening the creaky door just enough for the two of you to escape. He smoothly walks down the hall, with you following suit, and through a couple rooms until he opens another door, leading into a garage with an already started black car. He quickly opens the passenger seat and lets you in, waiting until you're fully seated before softly shutting it. You quickly buckle your seatbelt as he jogs around the front and into the other side. He seats himself and immediately backs up once the garage door is opened.

This can't be real.

You begin to pinch yourself, letting your tears run down your cheeks as you giddily smile, watching as you pass the wire fence and roll down the entirely too long driveway. "I'm sorry." The man, who you've not given a good look at yet, muttered. He didn't look at you, but he kept his eyes on the road and quickened his speed. You didn't respond, because you have nothing to say exactly.

"It's not my brothers fault, I promise." He gives you quick glance, his striking features an awfully good resemblance to asshole. "Then who is at fault!?" You felt your anger arise in you, but you hiccup and sniffle afterwards, clearing the fury-filled facade you were trying to encapsulate. "I've been trapped in a room for a month, sexually assaulted, malnourished, and taken away from all the people I love without an explanation. So tell me, who was it?" You asked, a hurt in your voice like the man had never heard before. He felt himself almost shed a tear at your words, shaking his head.

"He was forced to, by our leader. I can't give you names or details Y/N, but I must ask you not to press charges. I'll reimburse you with whatever kind of money you want, but if you fucking snitch, we're all dead. Including you, understand?" The tone of his voice caused your sniffles to hush and your eyes to bulge. Before you could answer, you feel his car halt and the view of your house, seemingly untouched, outside the tinted windows. "Grab your things, shower, and get back out here as quickly as possible." He demanded unlocking the doors and following you up to your doorstep.

You didn't question anything, grabbing your spare key from under the doormat and bursting into your home, the recognizable smell instantaneously calming you.

Wow.

You missed this place so much. All the pictures and nicknacks placed strategically around the place. You wished to lay on you sofa and squeeze all your pillows and smell all the smells that were so homely, but the man hurried you, standing guard at the door as you did all the things he asked, starting with a well needed shower and a change of clothes. After packing up things that you thought you'd need, you follow the man back to his car and hop in, waiting for his words. "Where's your nearest relative located?" He openly questions, starting the vehicle and beginning a slow drive, opposite to how he drove before.

"200 miles away, in a grave yard." You answer monotonously, staring straight ahead. "I figured, since there wasn't any search warrants out." He mumbled under his breath, though you heard. Your hearing had increased very much so throughout the entirety of a month, as well as your sneakiness you'd guess.

"Is there a place you can stay for the next week?" He furrowed his brows in question giving you his full attention the moment he stopped at a red light, where no other cars eerily surrounded. The moment he asked that question, your mind immediately went to one of your closest friends, whom you met in college and have stayed in touch with for the most part. Well, all except for an entire month. "Yes, drive to Belmont. I'll give you directions once we get in the city." You direct with a nod, pulling your knees to your chest and closing your eyes softly.

It's gonna be a long ride..

-

"Please, Daddy, I'll be good!" You beg as you watch him look over you with a wicked grin, his large hand stroking his erected length. You had your legs spread wide open, ready for his touch and warmth— whatever he could possibly do to make you feel good.

"Good girls don't run away." He sternly said, with what seemed to be an angered chuckle. His cold, merciless eyes beamed right into your own, his signature smirk dancing on his lips. He grabs your hips, flipping you onto your stomach with an ease, his hands softly gliding up and down your back. His fingertips alone sent core-aching shivers down your entire spine until your back was arched to his liking. His index finger traced a line all the way down your backside until it delved into your incredibly drenched pussy, shooting a foggy sense of mentality to your brain. He toyed with your folds, inserting two of his fingers at a relaxing slow place that made your stomach twist and turn with glee. You let out a couple sheer moans to yourself, basking in this quick moment of sensation before it turns to dust.

He continues his motions, gliding his other hand further up to caress your breast while he leans his mouth up towards your ear to lowly whisper; "You'd like to have this, wouldn't you?" You bit your lip with a happy sigh as his skillful fingers pick up a little speed, nodding your head for a slight yes to answer his question. "Words, sweetheart." You gasp when you feel his lips connect to your neck, his harsh sucking creating a slight difficulty to speak, as he wanted you to. "Yes, Daddy, I'd love to." It wasn't hard to figure out that he'd cease all of his orgasm creating actions just at your words.

"If only you didn't run away, you could've gotten what you wanted." His gruesome chuckles startled you, making you whimper with need. You look behind to see him licking his fingers with a smile, a smile you'd never forget.

"Y/N, wake up we're in Belmont." The man taps your arm lightly as his soft and soothing voice wakes you from your gut twisting slumber. You felt your entire body shutter with desire for more, and you felt a pooling within your panties.

Did you just have a wet dream about a kidnapper?

You caught your breath and blinked your eyes to get acquainted with the newly risen sun, trying to regain your memory. "What were you dreaming about? You kept saying daddy and shit, kinda hot." He gave you a suggestive smile as he chuckles, all the while your face burned up with embarrassment. You were almost annoyed— no you were peeved that he had woke you up from an amazing, imaginary sex marathon. "Nothing much, just fucking your brother." You shrug with a blank face, a hollowed chuckle emitting from his throat. "Ouch, women." He continues his small laughs, turning into a gas station and sliding right next to a pump.

"What do you want for breakfast?" He asks, getting out of the driver's side with a yawn. "To piss." You yawn as well, leaning back in your seat to stretch.

"I'd let you, but you'd probably make a run for it or something." He twists his body around, letting it breathe rather than being crunched in a car any longer. "Fine, a hash brown." You quickly answer, your mouth watering just to the thought. He nods, shutting his door and locking the vehicle twice. Once he's inside, you quickly scribble something on a random envelope, placing it in his seat before looking in the backseat for your bag. You quickly grab the straps and put your arms through the loops. With one last look at the man, who seemed to be getting your desired hash brown, you open the passenger side door and sprint as fast as possible before he'd notice the cars alert system sounding.

You run as fast as your legs could take you, keeping up a solid pace until you're in a recognizable neighborhood. You could still hear the car's endless beeping, which gave you hope that you'd finally be—

Free.

-

Thank you, for helping me escape. I've decided, within the few minutes of planning my escape as well, that I will not bring any of this up to the police, as I probably should. Yes, I was held there against my will, but I can't say I was exactly unhappy. So with that being said, never contact or try to find/kidnap me ever again. I will carry this baggage for the rest of my life, don't make it worse.

good riddance,

Y/N Y/L/N

(masterlist)

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Save Me

Part 3

part one, part two

Masterlist

Taglist

Summary: After you reject Loki, he leaves Midgard. But soon after, he needs your help to become a better king and a better man.

A/N: This is the last chapter of the “Save Me” series, if you can call it that. If you want more Loki One-shots feel free to request. If you want to be tagged in all Loki's future fics you can either add yourself to the taglist or ask me. Enjoy!! :)

Word Count: 1350

“I don't know what to say to that” you were shocked.

“you don't have to say anything at all. I know you don't feel anything towards me. It was a mistake coming here” he regretted saying what he said.

“no, Loki, wait. It's not what I meant” you held his arm.

“I get it. I'm evil,  I kill people and you save them” he nodded.

“If I thought you were completely evil, I wouldn't have saved  you that night” you informed him.

“So you share those feeling?” he asked.

“I don't know. All I know is that you can be better and you can redeem yourself. I, I- don't know how I feel towards you” you tried to cheer him up.

“I must go now” he jumped out of the window and disappeared.

When you woke up, you found a note on the nightstand “Thank you for everything” it was from him.

You didn't tell anyone about that day. Weeks went by and there was no words from him. As you started to forget about him, he showed up at the hospital disguised as a random patient. This was the last patient on your list for that day.

“Good evening Mr. Andrews! How are you feeling today?” you greeted.

“Seeing you made everything better” Loki said.

“So let's review the blood test results” you explained everything to him and advised him to take some vitamins. Loki, not wanting to interrupt you, kept listening to you with a smile on his face.

“Mr. Andrews?” you called him when you noticed his was straying.

“Yeah sorry, I got lost in your eyes” he boldly said.

“Excuse me?” he surely wasn't himself today.

“I missed you Y/n” he said.

“It's doctor y/l/n to you. And what are you talking about? You started to get uncomfortable.

“Oh, right, sorry” Loki changed back to his original self.

“Loki?... What are you doing here? And what have you done with my patient?” you asked.

“Relax, I didn't kill him if that's what you're worried about. I came to see you” he answered.

“Oh it's good to know he's not dead. But where is he?” you asked again.

“He's sleeping in the bathroom” he informed you.

“Jeez. What did you do that for?” you walked towards the door, but he quickly pushed the door shut.

“Will you listen to me for a second. He's fine. I didn't hurt him...much. He'll wake up with a slight headache, that's all, I swear” he explained.

“alright. What do you want this time?” you crossed your arms.

“I need your help to become a better man” he finally said.

“As much as I would love to help you. I have work to do” you informed him.

“Sadly, that's not a choice” he grabbed you and Skurge opened the gate to Asgard.

“Put me down” you demanded.

“I'm sorry there was no other way you'd accept” Loki apologized and transformed himself into Odin.

“Take me back Loki” you ordered.

“I won't. I'll let you go after you help me, I give you my word” he promised.

“you do realize that taking me against my will is not making you a better man” you stated the obvious.

“Would you have rather I threatened to kill everyone in the hospital if you didn't come?” he asked.

“no,no, no that's fine. I'm glad you didn't” “So your majesty how can I help you?” you asked.

“Tell me when I do something wrong?” he wasn't sure.

“Alright. First, you're gonna have to change your attitude. Then you'll have to watch your temper” you instructed.

- - -

You sat on the Throne next to Loki who disguised himself like Odin, when a man came. He was a bit rude and Loki stood up and approached him. He was about to kill the man with his bare hands, before you ran and stood in front of the man.

“Go!” you demanded and the man ran away. Loki transformed back “what was that about?” he asked.

“no, what was that about?” you asked him.

“didn't you see how rude the man was. He deserved to die” he tried to justify.

“Just because someone is rude, doesn't mean ending their lives is what should be done” you explained.

“then what do you suggest I should do?” he asked.

“Talk to them. If they are very rude, yell at them and remind them who they're talking to” you informed him.

“that sounds dull” he rolled his eyes.

- - -

“Loki? Loki? Where are you?” you searched for him in the throne room, in the meeting room, in the garden, in his room but you didn't find him. When you returned to your room, you saw him sitting on the bed eating grapes.

“Are you kidding me? I spent hours looking for you and people are waiting for you and you're sitting in my room, eating grapes” you got angry.

“Why are you so angry? Here have some” he handed you the plate.

“I don't want any. There are people waiting in a very long line to speak to their king and tell him of their problems and you don't even care”.

“It's boring. I don't want to sit there and listen to people complain about their lives for hours, can't you do it?” he asked.

“No, you're the one who decided to banish your father to earth and take his place. You want to be a king, then act like it. And take some responsibility for my sake” you commanded.

“Alright, but just for you” he informed you.

“No, don't do it for me. Do it for your people. You asked me to help you and this me helping you. If you want to be a good king and people to love you, you have to listen to them, care for them and try to understand them” you explained.

He did as you said and later that evening he came to your room.

“Thank you Y/n”.

“What for?” you asked.

“showing me the way. The right way. You were right. People tend to like me when I help them” he admitted.

“See, wasn't so hard, was it?” you stood up and came closer to him.

“There's something else I'd like to confess” he added and your heart skipped a beat.

“shoot” you tried to stay calm.

“what?” he didn't understand.

“It means go ahead” you explained.

“I just wanted to say that.... you, you're the first person and I mean not just midgardian to not judge me and attack m. Instead, you showed me a different way of doing things, even when I wasn't nice to you. You chose words over fists. You believed in me when no one else did”.

“I believe you are a changed man” you informed him.

He came closer “ changed for better or for worse?” he asked.

“Does that need saying?” you smiled.

“I would love to hear you say it”.

“Loki... You are a good man. You became better  and now you;ll become a great king” you looked into his eyes.

“Does that mean you're willing to give me a chance?” he asked.

You didn't give him an answer, instead you reached for his face and kissed him.

@markusstraya @raeology @legolasothranduilion @instantdccomicsavengersfarm @afangirlamongotherthings @xfangirl-stuff-idk  @soulpunker58 @inlovewith3 @purpstraw @berruneko09 @5aftermidnight @talinalani @jeansongg

[littlesupernaturalwords]

Not Him Part Two

Written for SPN Hiatus Creations | Week 4

Warnings: DARK!FIC, angst, torture, mental and physical abuse, manipulation, kidnapping, held captive, non-descriptive forced sexual encounter, non-con, rape, forced nudity, arguing, swearing, low self-esteem, self-doubt, DON'T READ IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY ANY OF THIS, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Pairing: shapeshifter!Dean x reader (pre-established Dean x reader)

Prompt: “Vampires, Werewolves or Shapeshifters”

Word count: 5 269

Summary: You left the Bunker after you'd had an argument with Dean. Soon enough, you find yourself regretting ever stepping a foot out of your home; your mind fuzzy and your body weak, a monster with your lover's face finds its way into your life in a way you will never be able to forget.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Dean loved you.

You kept repeating that like a mantra to yourself, not letting fear overcome you, as your lover sliced your skin. A shiver ran down your spine. Dean pulled back to look at you, smiling lovingly, before he put the knife against your collarbone and pushed. Your heartbeat quickened as you tried to breathe through the pain, willing your muscles to stay relaxed. A jolt of pleasure cursed through you along with the sting once Dean withdrew the knife, and you closed your eyes to cherish the strange sensation, your brain high with adrenaline and endophins. Dean hadn't cut you too deep; he'd just drew enough blood so it would trickle down your flesh and mix with the liquid already drying on your skin.

But you were trembling nonetheless. Your body was in shock from all the constant pain that began to overpower the pleasure, shallow cuts gracing every part of skin Dean could reach. You weren't smiling anymore, but tried not to react when he pushed the blade a little too deep and pain shot through your shaking thigh. Your clothes were in pieces, hanging on you just by threads, but you didn't even think about covering yourself.

This was Dean. He loved you. And he was doing this for you.

"Where's Y/N?" Dean asked impatiently the moment Castiel came through the door to the Bunker.

The angel frowned, walking down the stairs, and came to a stop by the table in the War room. "She is not with you?" Cas asked, tilting his head to the side. Dean inhaled sharply and turned around, running his hands through his hair. You'd left the previous night and they hadn't heard from you since. Dean was becoming anxious and more impatient with every passing second.

"You mean she hasn't prayed to you?" Sam asked, trying to stay calm. He'd made Dean get a few hours of sleep until their angel friend got there, but started to regret that decision. He'd tried to track your phone, but you either turned off the GPS or broke your phone all together.

"No," Cas replied hesitantly, his eyes drifting between the brothers, "not since you hunted the ghoul in Missouri." There was a loud smack which made Sam's and Castiel's head whip towards Dean as he sent everything that had been on the table flying to the ground. He threw his phone into the opposite wall with a pained shout and the small device shattered to pieces.

"Dean-" Sam began, but his brother cut him off.

"It's my fault," Dean said so quietly it was barely above whisper, his voice laced with despair. Sam shared a look with Castiel, but neither of them said a word; they knew it wouldn't change anything. You were gone and Dean wouldn't stop until he found you. And he didn't care who stood in his way.

"Dean," you breathed heavily, but your lover didn't stop. He dove the knife into you with a twisted smile, uncaring of your trembling body. His slices became deeper, more sadistic; Dean kept pushing until tears started streaming down your cheeks and you strained against the ropes binding you. There was no more pleasure in what Dean was doing to you. His hands were rough, smearing blood across your skin and pushing on already scabbing wounds until they started bleeding again, and you wanted to tell him to stop; wanted to shout at him, tell him he was hurting you. But then he looked up at you with so much love in his eyes and caressed your cheeks so gently, you couldn't help but lean into the touch and smile even through your tears.

He loved you. He was doing this for you.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Dean asked you softly, crouching to be at the same eye level as you.

You swallowed a sob. "It hurts," you whimpered pathetically, wanting it to stop, but wishing to be good for Dean even more.

"Oh, I know," he murmured and leaned so close your foreheads were touching. You closed your eyes and immediately relaxed, the simple touch enough to calm down your aching body. "You're doing so good," Dean praised you, stroking your hair. "Such a good girl for me." Blush stained your cheeks and you smiled, leaning forward to press your lips against his. The kiss was gentle, loving, and said more than any words ever could. You didn't pull back, not even when your lungs started burning from lack of oxygen, and it was Dean who had break the kiss before you lost yourself in him completely. He stayed close, your noses touching and his hand cupping your cheek. "Just a few more, sweetheart. Just a little more, okay?" Dean asked against your lips.

You swallowed a whimper. Your body was aching, screaming at you to stop the pain, to stop the constant stinging and throbbing you felt in each cut with your every heartbeat. It was hard to breathe, hard to focus, hard to relax your muscles so it wouldn't hurt more. But you wanted to be good. For Dean. He loved you, he would never hurt you if he thought there was any other way. You took in another shaky breath before answering. "Okay," you breathed and reached for another kiss. Dean kissed you back hungrily and licked at your lips with his tongue. You granted him entrance without second thought and tried to get even closer to him, until the ropes cut into your wrists so much you knew there would be burns from them later. You whined when he parted from you, but Dean only smiled at you lovingly and got up. He grabbed his knife from the table, withdrawing something from his jacket. It was a small glass bottle, barely more than an inch tall, filled to the brim with milky liquid and secured by a cork. You watched as Dean pulled the cork out and dipped the blade into the fluid before he set the bottle down and came closer to you.

Your heart was racing in your chest and more tears filled your eyes, but you still tried to smile at him. There was so much love in his eyes when he brushed your hair back and brought the knife to your shoulder. Dean stilled the knife against your skin, but didn't break it, a questioning look on his face. He was giving you an out, you realized. Emotions rushed through your body as tears of joy fell through your eyelashes and a quiet sob left your lips. Dean loved you and he didn't need to say it out loud - you saw it, clear as day. You gave him a single nod and that was all the premission he needed. Acid smell filled your nose only a second before Dean cut through your skin and quickly lifted the knife. The cut wasn't deep, but you couldn't say it stung - it burned you alive. Fire filled the shallow wound the moment Dean broke the skin and spread through your whole shoulder. You screamed. Ropes cut into your wrists and ankles, your body trying to get free, twisting and writhing in the chair, but it was no use.

You didn't notice Dean bringing the knife to your stomach and only registered he did so after fire consumed the whole middle part of your body. You screamed and panted, not even trying to stop your tears, pulling and struggling, twisting your head to tell him to stop. It was too much. Everything was too much. The light suddenly became too bright, the ropes too tight, your head dizzy. It hurt. There was no pleasure, not a single thought about pleasing Dean. You needed it to stop - and you needed it now.

"Dean, please," you sobbed quietly, writhing in the chair in a desperate effort to ease the pain, to soothe the fire that spread through your body like acid filling your weins. Your vision was blurry with tears, your skin overheated and sweaty in your body's hopeless attempt to cool it down.

A warm hand cupped your cheek. "Just one more more, sweetheart," Dean answered your plea softly and you found yourself nodding automatically. You didn't want it. You wanted, no, needed him to stop. And yet, all you did was close your eyes and lean into his touch, trying to distract yourself from the pain. You felt the cold blade on your thigh and struggled to relax. Why did it hurt so much? The cuts were barely deep enough to draw blood, but what you felt was like fire - consuming and overwhelming. You held your breath.

The tip of the blade broke your skin and your effords to be quiet died along with everything else you'd thought was important. Agony. That was the only way you could describe what you were feeling. You were screaming and panting until your voice broke and your mouth stayed opened in a silent scream. You bucked against the ropes, whining and sobbing openly, trying to get away, trying to get it to stop.

"Please," you begged, struggling to breathe, "Dean, please. I can't- I can't." Sobs wrecked through your shaking body as tears formed behind your closed eyelids.

"Shh," Dean soothed you and cupped your cheeks with his hands. You didn't get lost in him this time. It was too much. Too many sensations rushed through your body and mind; burning, sweat, tears, heat, even Dean's voice were too much. "You did so good," he whispered in your ear, wiping away your tears and nuzzling against your neck. "You were so good for me, so brave. I'm so proud of you."

There was no satisfaction when you heard the words. No pleasure, no joy, nothing. Nothing but the constant pain and throbbing of your aching body. Broken. You felt broken and weak, quietly sobbing even as Dean kissed your forehead and stroked your hair, stuck to your sweaty skin. You couldn't keep your head up. It fell limply against your chest, ringing filling your ears and black spots dancing in your vision. A foreign noise sounded somewhere in the room, but you were too far gone to recognize it. You welcomed the darkness that threatened to take you, seeing it as release from your pain.

Dean gently lifted your head. "Come on, sweetheart, you can't fall asleep now," he told you softly, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. "Open your eyes, Y/N," Dean ordered and you didn't dare disobey. Your eyelids were heavy, but you forced them to open and blinked several times to try and clear you vision; it didn't help. "There you go," Dean whispered against your skin and kissed your forehead again. The elder Winchester slowly withdrew his hands from your face, making sure you would keep your head up by yourself, and moved to the ropes on your wrists. He quickly untied you from the chair and kissed the burned skin, whispering gentle words and praises, but you were too tired to actually hear them. You didn't move your hands when he crouched to untie your ankles, just sat there in what remained of your clothes, covered in blood and sweat. "I'm so proud of you," Dean repeated as he rose up and kissed you deeply. You didn't respond to him. You didn't react even as he slipped his hands over your back and under your knees and picked you up like you weighed nothing.

You curled into yourself, still on fire, and whimpered into his chest. Dean carried you to the bathroom and carefully set you down on the toilet. You fell back against the wall, too weak and tired to hold yourself up. Dean carefully undressed you from your ruined, bloody clothes and kissed every single patch of skin he uncovered, humming and mumbling against it. You thought you should feel violated, being stripped by him, but you didn't; you didn't have enough energy to do anything. Everything hurt. You hissed even when the soft fabric of your shirt scraped your arm. You had no more tears to spill, no more words to say. Emotions rushed through you, but even as they did, you didn't know what to do.

Dean pulled you from your thoughts when he came up to brush his nose against yours and gave you a quick kiss. He didn't wait for your reaction and scooped you up into his arms. The same noise you'd heard before filled your ears as he carried you to the bathtub and slowly lowered you into the water. You didn't scream. Small whimpers and whines escaped your lips once the too-hot water hit your skin, but you didn't say anything.

"I know, I know," Dean said in a low voice, trying to soothe you. "Shh, I've got you." Dean closed the tap and you realized that it was the strange sound you'd heard. Your blood mixed with the water and turned it a dark pink colour, but you didn't notice. Everything stung and ached and Dean was holding you up so you wouldn't drown. His fingers were gentle, running over your damaged body and washing the blood away, until the water became too dirty and Dean had to refill the tub to make sure you were clean. He massaged your scalp, working shampoo into your hair, and mindfully washed it with clean water before he put the conditioner in. Gentle, oh-so-careful, fingers cleaned your body with soap and you whimpered and gripped his hand tightly. Dean didn't stop you, only leaned closer and caressed every part of your skin that wasn't injured, letting you squeeze his hand as a way to deal with the pain. The fire lessened, but it was still there, burning you from the inside, and you realized it was the liquid Dean's dipped his knife in that made it so bad.

Why had he hurt you like that? Because he loved you, you replied to yourself. But why would he do that? To make you stronger, make you brave for him. But you didn't want this. Didn't you? Didn't you want to be a good girl for him? You knew the answer, but didn't know what to think.

Your hands loosened and Dean quickly finished washing you and brought you back to the room, uncaring of the water that wettened his clothes as he laid you down on the bed and quickly dried you with a towel. Your skin was painfully tight, the cuts pulsing and itching, and you writhed in discomfort. Dean lay next to you and pulled you to him with his hand around your waist and your back pressed to his chest.

"Shh, sleep, Y/N," he whispered in your ear. You laid your hand over his and laced your fingers. Dean knew how much you liked to sleep like this, how safe you felt in his arms, and a happy smile pulled on your lips. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to ignore the pain, and inhaled Dean's scent deeply. And that was the moment you froze; he didn't smell like Dean. There was no leather, no gunpowder, even no oil in his scent. The man behind you felt you tense and pulled you closer, whispering praises in your ear. But you couldn't hear him. Everything came back to you.

He was a shapeshifter. He'd persuaded you Dean didn't love you, didn't care about you. He'd manipulated you into needing him. Manipulated you into craving him, kissing him. You felt sick to your stomach. The arm around your waist tightened, making sure you couldn't move. You were trapped.

Dean sat at one of the tables in the library, his hand itching to reach for the bottle of whiskey he kept next to him, but stopped himself; you needed him. Sam was scanning every single route you might have taken and Castiel was sitting at the table with his eyes closed, straining his ears to hear anything on the angel radio, waiting for you to pray. Dean felt useless. He was the one who'd made you leave in the first place, but there was nothing he could do to find you. Frustrated tears prickled his eyes and he had to resist the pull the alcohol had on him not to drown the whole bottle down.

Castiel straightened his back suddenly and his impossibly blue eyes fell open, landing on Dean. The angel spoke before either of the brothers had time to ask. "I found her."

You didn't know when or how you fell asleep, but you woke up suddenly by someone calling your name. Your eyes shot open and you tried to sit up, only to pull at ropes, your wrists tied together and secured to the headboard.

"Y/N!" somebody called again and you whipped your head to the sound. Dean was standing above you, his eyes wide and full or concern. "Don't worry," he said when he noticed you were looking up at him, "I'm gonna get you out of here." He quickly reached above your head to pull at the ropes.

You eyed him warily, not sure whether he was the real Dean or the shifter. His demeanour was different; his face twisted with worry, dark shadows under his eyes. He cursed when the knot didn't loosen.

"Dean," you whispered breathlessly, tugging at the ropes.

His face softened. "You're safe with me," Dean assured you and you nodded. Your eyes fell on the door to the room and you realized you had no idea when the shifter would return. A whimper left your lips, urging Dean to hurry, just as he mamaged to untie you. You shot up and wrapped your arm around him. "I've got you," Dean said and helped you up to your feet. You were nude, covered in scabbing cuts, and your whole body itched, urging you to scratch the fresh wounds.

You made a wary step, biting your cheek to suppress a cry, and pulled at Dean's arm, urging him to move. You had to get out of there before the shifter came back. But Dean stayed still, his head down. "Dean, we have to go," you whispered quickly.

Dean looked at you with a disappointment frown. "Would you really leave me, Y/N?"

Your blood ran cold. This was the shifter. You took a step back, but he caught your upper arm and squeezed, his nails cutting your skin and opening your scabs. You clenched your teeth and tried to yank your arm free, but he gripped your hair and pulled your naked body to him.

"You would leave me, huh?" the shifter growled lowly. He squeezed your hair tighter, your scalp burning with pain. "Your Dean let you leave, but I won't let you do that." His grip on you loosened enough for you to look up at his face; it was twisted with hurt. "Why did you try to do that?" he asked softly. "Why would you want to leave me after being so good for me?"

You didn't answer. His praise had no effect on you this time and you swallowed hard, trying to find a way to overpower the shifter with Dean's body. He was stronger than you, but you were faster; but at the position you were in, you were helpless - one hand in your hair and other on your arm, pressing you to him, locking your arms between your bodies.

The shifter sighed. "Will you be good for me?" he asked and you nodded. If he let you go, this would be your chance and who cared you were naked; you needed to get away from him. He smiled sweetly, guiding your lips to his and kissing you until your lungs burned for air. You couldn't pull away, the hand in your hair stopping you, and he let you go only after you struggled against him. You panted, trying to catch your breath, when his hold on you loosened. "Get on the bed," he ordered and your eyes widened. He chuckled at your reaction, but caressed your cheek with the hand that had been pulling on your scalp only seconds ago. "I have to punish you for what you did, sweetheart," he explained, still keeping his touch gentle. "Now, get on the bed."

You nodded, keeping your head down and waiting for the right moment. You needed him to loosen the hand on your arm just a tiny bit and you were confident you could get out even in your injured state. The shifter withdrew his hands all together and you took your chance. You turned and sprinted to the door, uncaring of your injuries. Your hand landed on the knob when the shifter's hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you off your feet.

"No!" you shouted and kicked your legs. You tried to slam your head into his nose, but he was holding you too low for you to even reach his chin. He roughly threw you on the bed. You tried to squirm away, but he quickly covered you with his huge body, pressing you down with all his body weight. You slapped him and went for his eyes before he caught your hands with a growl and brought them over your head. You recognized the rough ropes the moment they touched your skin, but couldn't do anything as the shifter tied your wrists back to the headboard tightly. He forced his knee between your legs and checked your hands were immobile before moving down your body. The second you saw the rope tied to the bottom corners of the bed, you screamed louder than ever before and kicked your legs desperately, hitting him square in the jaw.

He roughly grabbed your ankle and brought it to the edge of the bed, keeping your other leg down with his knee. You squirmed and shouted, pulling at the ropes so hard you were bleeding even before he was done tying the first ankle. You fought him with all you had as he tied your other leg, keeping you open for him, completely at his mercy.

Tears filled your eyes and a sob left your lips once he straightened up to look at you. "Please," you begged, but it was as though he didn't hear you.

"So beautiful," he breathed and ran his fingertips up your legs. Your skin felt like sandpaper - rough, dry and peeling. His hand came close to your womanhood and you desperately tried to close your legs, but he passed it and touched your stomach. His mouthed went the same path, kissing up both your aching legs, up your stomach where he sucked at your belly button and up between the valley of your breasts. You twisted and squirmed beneath him, shouting and crying the whole time, but the shifter posing as Dean overpowered you easily. "So beautiful for me," he whispered as he kissed your neck.

"Please," you sobbed, "please, stop. I don't want this, please."

"Shh," he shushed you and kissed your lips. "I have to punish you, Y/N." You whimpered and turned your head to the side, but he only moved to kiss along your jaw. Warm hands were running over your body, squeezing at your abused flesh and it only made you cry harder. "Don't worry, sweetheart," the shifter purred, "I'll make it good for you."

You fought with all you had, squirming, twisting and stretching until he had to hold you down by your neck, cutting all your air supply as he thrusted into you. You screamed and cried, clawing at the ropes, praying somebody would just come through the door and save you from the monster with your lover's face, forcing its way into your body, but nobody ever came. He nipped and pulled at your skin and you screamed until you couldn't anymore, your voice breaking and turning into hoarse grunts as he broke your skin with his brutal pace and blood poured down your body and onto the sheets. You couldn't look at him. As the last screams died in your throat, you turned your head away, letting your body go limp and tears run across your nose and into your hair soundlessly.

It wasn't Dean. This wasn't Dean. And yet, every time your body shook with his assault, you felt his fingers digging into your hips. It was his voice whispering how much he loved you. His lips kissed and nipped and bit at your skin. And it was his face you saw; the vibrant green eyes, the beautiful full lips, the tiny freckles you so loved. He fucked you, thrusted into you so violently you thought he would split you in two. He was getting close. You could feel him twitch inside of you and he came with a shout, pushing you over the edge with him. You didn't want it. You didn't want the orgasm that made your toes curl and your back arch. Sobs wrecked through you even more powerfully than before.

You closed your eyes when he withdrew from you. He tortured you, manipulated you, raped you and yet, there was only one word that could describe what you were feeling as emotions swirled through you: nothing. You felt nothing. You waited for the anger, for the hate or shame to fill you, but it never came.

You didn't move when he untied your ankles, kissing the burned flesh. You didn't react when he kissed his was up your body, paying attention to every bruise and mark he'd left on you. You didn't look at him when he turned your face to him to kiss you, your gaze remaining unfocused. And you didn't do anything to escape even once he freed your hands and helped you put them by your sides. You only turned to the side and brought your knees up, still staring blankly into the wall. The bed dipped next to you and the shifter turned you to your other side easily and pulled you to him without resistance. He didn't speak for a long moment, only held you to his chest and kissed your head.

"You're so good for me, Y/N," he whispered into your hair, but you didn't even blink. He raised his head to look at you and sighed once he noticed your unfocused gaze. "Get some sleep, sweetheart," he said and laid a hand over your eyes. You didn't do anything to shake it off, didn't even flinch when his hand made your whole world turn black. You only stared into the darkness, feeling your spendings begining to dry between your thighs.

The Impala came to a stop in front of a motel three hours from the Bunker. Dean spotted your truck immediately and wanted to jump out of the car right away, when Sam put a hand on his shoulder.

Sam struggled to find the right words and sighed. "Just don't do anything stupid," he said finally and Dean only nodded, loading his gun. He got out of the car, Sam and Castiel following only seconds after him, and went to your truck first, his fingers laced around his gun. Your truck was dirty and cold, indicating you hadn't used it in at least a few hours. Dean looked inside, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

"She's inside, you know," came a voice that made his heart skip a beat.

Dean turned abruptly, pointing his gun at the man in front of him. Only he looked exactly like Dean - his face, hair, even clothes were the same. A shifter, Dean realized and clicked the safety on his gun off.

"Who are you? What did you do to her?" Dean shouted. Sam was by his side in a second, Castiel behind him with an angel blade in his hand.

The shifter smiled darkly and brought his hands up in surrender. "She killed my mate," he said angrily, keeping his eyes fixed on Dean "I didn't do anything she wouldn't deserve."

And with that, Dean shot him in the heart.

The spot next to you was cold. Everything hurt. You stayed curled on your side, but every cut and bruise the shifter had put on your skin reminded you of him. You knew there were bruises on your neck, making it hard to breathe, but didn't care. You had no tears to spill, no sobs to let out; you only lay in bed, curled up in blanket, and kept your eyes on the wall opposite to you. You hadn't slept, but couldn't remember when the shifter had left you.

Nothing - that was what you felt. No emotions, no thoughts, no plan, nothing. You knew it wasn't Dean who had hurt you, but his face, even in your happy memories, haunted you. And yet, there was no hate towards him - simply nothing.

The door to the room opened, but you stayed still, readying yourself for whatever he might do to you. The mess between your legs had dried on your skin, reminding you of what he had done, and it made you pull the blanket higher in a desperate attempt to protect yourself. Footsteps echoed through the room and came closer to you.

You didn't react when somebody put their hand on your shoulder and pulled the blanket down slightly.

"Son of a bitch," you heard Dean say and curled into yourself more. You'd thought you couldn't cry anymore, but you had been wrong; the moment his deep voice filled the room, the dam in you broke and there was nothing you could do to stop your quiet weeping. You didn't want him to hurt you any more, didn't want him to touch you.

His hands pulled the blanket lower, uncovering more of your abused skin, but you did nothing to stop him, only lay there soundlessly, praying to Castiel to come and save you, to put a stop to your misery. Dean turned you on your back without resistance and you gripped the blanket tighter, not wanting him to see more.

A single look at his face had you trembling and sobbing. You closed your eyes, pressing hands over your ears, so you wouldn't hear the voice of the man you loved.

Dean didn't know what to do. He reached to cup your cheek, but you only sobbed harder when he touched your skin. "Y/N, it's me," Dean said, but you didn't hear him. But he didn't need you to say anything to know what the shifter had done; purple, finger-shaped bruises blossomed on your neck, cuts covered every spot of your skin he could see along with bites and marks.

Dean hadn't noticed he'd been crying until tears blurred his vision.

You couldn't look at him. Sobbing and shaking, you tried to hide under the blanket, but found you couldn't move; your body was spent, too weak and tired to do anything other than just lay and wait for what your rapist would do next.

And Dean suddenly understood; you'd killed the shifter's mate, but what he'd done to you was so much worse. He made sure you couldn't be with Dean anymore. Ensured that when you saw Dean's face, you wouldn't see the man you loved, but the abuser the shifter had been. Dean realized you would always see him as the monster you both knew deep down he really was.

And it shattered his heart.

A broken whimper left your lips and you realized the shifter had been right all along; Dean didn't love you. He didn't care about you.

Because if he did, wouldn't he have come for you already?

[lizzybeth1986]

Nuestra Familia (RCD MC: Astrid)

Book: Red Carpet Diaries

Rating: G

Pairing: Astrid-centric, minor Seth x Astrid

Summary: Astrid realises she doesn't know her family as well she had thought. Minor crossover with The Freshman/The Sophomore/The Junior.

Author's Note: This is a bit late for MC Appreciation Week, but I figured I'd put it out there anyway. This is my origin story for Astrid Ortega, my second RCD MC, who is involved with Seth. There's a cameo of one character from TF/TS/TJ in the end and I have a feeling you folks have already figured out who it is 😅 I used (of course) the "crossover" prompt from this list for my fic. I'm tagging @choices-mc-rules, in case they would still like to reblog this.

Translations:

Nuestra familia - "our family" in Spanish.

Chanclas - slippers/flip-flops

Tres leches cake - Typically a very moist chiffon cake soaked in a mixture of evaporated milk, condensed milk and heavy cream. Tres leches literally means "three milks".

Abuela - one of the terms used for ‘grandmother’ in Spanish.

Ita - Short for Abuelita, also used for grandmothers. Astrid calls her grandmother the former, her mom Teresa calls her grandmother the latter.

Manda Huevos - Can mean a lot of things according to context, but generally used to express a range of emotions, such as annoyance, disappointment, contempt or disbelief. In this context, Teresa means “it's not fair”.

If I've gotten anything wrong in terms of references, please do tell me, and I'll definitely fix it in the fic.

“One more foot inside my kitchen and it'll be my chanclas for you later.”

Teresa Ortega said these words to her daughter Astrid, in the same tone one would use to offer a guest some tea.

It wasn't that her mom didn't allow her kids to help with the cooking. She did. Salome was too young to do much but set the table yet but Astrid (and her big sister Letitia, whenever she was home) often pitched in to help with the meal.

But heaven help anyone who tried to help Mom with her tres leches cake.

This recipe was from Mom's Ita’s faded little diary, passed down to her by her mother on the condition that she would learn its recipes off by heart. It was her pride and joy, Mom would often say. Her baby before her actual babies came along.

And today it was even more essential Mom get this cake right. Astrid's abuela was visiting, and ever since Astrid's mother insisted on naming her Astrid (“She’s already named my first and last - at least leave the middle one to me!”) she could do nothing right.

Perhaps it would've been easier to handle if Dad wasn't Abuela's only son, if Mom had someone she could jointly ignore Abuela with, if they had cousins they could play with while the adults sorted out their issues. Or perhaps not. Still, it would have been nice to know.

“Easy, mom, I'm not going to touch your precious cake,” Astrid said, grinning, “Lemme demolish it at lunch instead.”

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't tempted, though. She could get the scent of baked cake wafting in all the way from her bedroom, and her mother was already starting to combine Carnation milk, condensed milk and 1/4th of a cup of heavy cream into a thin, but somewhat creamy, mixture.

Mom raised her eyebrows. “Why are you here, then?”

Astrid felt the muscles around her neck tense up, but schooled her face to a look of injured innocence. “What, can't I just want to talk to my mom once in a while?”

She craned her neck a little further behind Astrid, a tiny frown beginning to form between her brows. “What's that you're holding behind your back?”

Ding! The cake was ready now, just in time for soaking. Astrid let out a sigh of relief. She wanted Mom to see this wedding card, yes - it was why she came to the kitchen in the first place - but now was probably not the time for questions. Questions about family or about secrets. Not when she knew how important it was for her mother to get her weekend cakes right.

“Family” was always a big deal around the Ortega table. Dad was his mother's only child, and Mom’s parents passed on long before any of them were ever born. Her father was as annoyed by Abuela's antics as her mother was, but it never stopped him from having her visit every Sunday because “she's the only family we have left”.

It was as if he needed her to keep himself rooted, as if without her he would be floating aimlessly, no aim or identity, taking his wife and children down that path with him. Abuela knew this. By God, did she know this.

Or so I thought, Astrid said to herself, gripping the wedding card tightly and creating new creases where the word Ortega was written.

Mom was gritting her teeth now, carefully pouring the three-milk mixture over the cake and muttering to herself. “One more word about dry cake this time and I'll give her soggy toast, I swear I will.”

Astrid would have stood up last week and said something to Abuela, if only Mom would let her. It was probably a good thing Leticia wasn't around, she'd fire shots at Abuela for less. She was protective over all of them and often in the heat of the moment she'd forget she’d be landing them all in further trouble.

She was still muttering. “Wants chiffon cake. Screams bloody murder if I use box mix. What, Teresa, looking for shortcuts again?” Mom's voice was raised in an accurately nasal imitation of Abuela's voice. It was almost like she'd forgotten Astrid was there. “Then I make it from scratch like she wants. Then it's Oh Teresa this is so dry oh Teresa it tastes like sawdust. Why else do you think I use box mix, eh? You want it from scratch and you want moist. ¡Manda Huevos!”

The diatribe kept Mom occupied while she finished pouring, so Astrid kept silent. Mom needed this. This wasn't something she can say in front of Letitia (resulting in another Sunday screaming match) or Dad (what would he do?) or Salome (no way would the kid ever take Salome, language! seriously again). Mom needed someone to have her back, no matter how silently or secretly. And that someone had better be her.

“If only Linda had stayed…”

Astrid froze. “What did you say?”

Mom looked up, blinked twice, then stiffened. “Nothing. Nothing.”

Silently, Astrid handed over the card she'd been holding, all this time. She found it while searching for her dad's treasured García Lorca poetry collection, hidden between a page that exalted love and a page that mourned loss.

Mom took it from her, her eyes widening as she read the words.

LINDA ORTEGA

and

DOMINIC SANDOVAL

request the honour of your company at their wedding.

“Dad always told us he was all Abuela has, right,” Astrid said, “The only Ortega for miles around."

Mom answered by busying herself with more activity than ever. Keeping the soaked cake in the fridge. Pouring the remaining milk mixture into two glasses. Washing her hands. Washing the dishes.

“I'll do that for you,” Astrid took a plate from Mom's hands, “Just talk to me.” She grabbed a sponge and dish washing soap, cleaning vigorously. “All this time, Dad's been telling us Abuela's the only family he has, Mom. Like, he has no one else. Like, we have no sisters or brothers besides the three of us. Was he lying?”

“You're wrong,” Mom said, her voice suddenly sounding sharper, harder, “Abuela's the only family he has left. Your father didn't lie.”

“Just omitted the truth, yeah,” Astrid wished she knew how she felt about this. Right now there was so much she was feeling that she didn't exactly know where to begin. “There's no “together with our parents” above their names either. Not like yours’.”

Mom sighed, picked the card up, then held up two glasses of milk-mixture in front of her. “Take one and give the other to your sister. I have a lot of work to do.”

On any other day, Astrid would have grabbed that glass and relished its creaminess, wiping the milk-moustache off her mouth with a flourish. But today no amount of sweetness was going to take away that weird metallic taste in the roof of her mouth.

“I'm not done asking about this,” Astrid said, scowling, “to you or to Dad. If I have aunts and cousins out there, that's something I wanna know.”

Astrid did try in the weeks to come. But she never saw the wedding card again, and neither Mom or Dad ever responded when she raised the topic again. Still. It felt nice to dream.

Every time Abuela made a snide remark at lunch, she imagined her cousins there. A snarky younger girl who’d make smartass comments. A strong boy her age who’d shut Abuela up with just a glare. A nice aunt who’d take Mom's mind off all this nonsense. It didn't help much, but it felt nice.

It felt nice knowing she had company out there. Somewhere.

--

6 years later.

“Donuts, Iowa?” Seth’s eyes were gleaming at the prospect. He was more a bag-of-chips kinda guy most days, but he also liked having massive sugar rushes before a comedy gig.

“As long as the insides of six of those are practically spilling over with fruit jam, I'm game,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It felt exhilarating, freeing. She hadn't felt this normal in a while - normal enough to kiss her boyfriend without worrying about paparazzo jumping out from a bush. There was a guy in a leather jacket she didn't recognize - three blocks across - looking at her like he wanted to talk, but not in a way that made her feel unsafe.

That was the nice thing about Northbridge. People looked, sure, but they were less likely to make you feel like an exhibit from a zoo.

“Wait here, yeah?” Seth said, planting a kiss on the lips instead, “I'll be back before you can finish spelling “OHIO” with your arms.”

Astrid laughed. Seth said the most Ohio things sometimes. Neither of them had had this much fun since she was offered a lead role in Tender Nothings, which was why Seth always jumped at a chance to take up gigs in Northbridge, and why he always offered to take Astrid along when she was free.

The guy from before stepped forward a few minutes after Seth entered the donut shop. The summer heat must have been too much for him - his leather jacket was now slung over his shoulders. “Um, hello. Astrid Ortega?”

He stood with his hands in his pockets, mouth pursed into a thin line, a tiny curl slipping carelessly from his hair and resting on his forehead. She caught a peek at the tail end of a bird tattoo (Owl? The tail looked pointy) on his left arm.

“Yeah,” Astrid said, wondering whether it was her or Seth he wanted to talk to, “but I don't know what your name is.”

“ Zigmund. Zig for short,” he replied, looking behind him from time to time, “My sister Lucy’s a big fan. Asked me to help her get an autograph from you.”

“Is she here?”

“Yeah. But she doesn't want to come out. She's shy.”

Ah. So that was the cherry-red blur barely hidden by that building. She learned long ago that no matter how friendly you appeared, your image would precede you and intimidate people anyway. Autographs were great, but somehow she didn't want to stop at just that.

“Would she come out now if I asked?” she gave him her sunniest smile, “Tell her I won't bite.”

Zig hesitated, then nodded. Astrid watched him walk to the other building, move his hands expressively as he tried to convince his sister to join him (from that angle he almost looks like Letitia, Astrid thought), and return with a curly-haired, starry-eyed teenage girl.

“H-hey,” she said, then blushed, clearly embarrassed by her nervousness. Silently, she hands over her autograph book. She keeps her eyes studiously away from Astrid's face. “I, um, I like mystery films, and I really, really liked Tender Nothings.”

A girl after my own heart. “Maybe you'll like Sunset Boulevard, then,” she said, smiling.

Astrid could have just signed and left it at that, but there was something about these two. Something about the way they stood together, or exchanged glances, or something, that reminded her of home. Which was silly. But it didn’t change the fact that she wanted to leave a good impression on them.

“What would you like to be when you grow up, Lucy?”

Lucy didn't miss a beat. “Ballet dancer. Like my brother.”

Astrid smiled, particularly at the look the girl gave Zig. Yes, she could see on second glance that even though some people would say he didn't have the body of a dancer, he held himself with a certain grace, a certain lightness that belied a stronger core. Hit by a sudden rush of inspiration, she quickly scribbled a little note to go with her signature, and asked Lucy to read it.

To Lucy and Zig, future (hopefully!) best ballet dancing duo in America. Be sure to save me a seat when you folks get famous. Love Always, Astrid.

“Wowwww,” Lucy whispered. Zig suppressed his smile, trying not to let how he felt show, and failed. A corner of his mouth lifted upwards, revealing an almost-invisible dimple.

The two left before Seth brought his box of donuts,but they thanked her at least thrice as they walked away.

“Wait till I tell Mom about this,” Astrid overheard Lucy tell her brother as they left, “I told you she'd be really, really nice.”

“You did,” there was a note of indulgence in Zig's voice.

"Ortegas all around the world. Wherever we're from, we're nice.”

Had Seth come out a moment later, Astrid would have probably walked up to them and asked. Perhaps asked them where they were from and their parents’ names.

But Seth was here, with donuts, and there was never a moment she could take her eyes off either.

“Do you know those two?” Seth asked her, passing her a tres leches cake donut that was claimed to be one of their best, “They looked familiar.”

“”No,” Astrid replied, closing her eyes in bliss. Mmmm. The treat was taking her back to Des Moines, back to home, back to her mother's little kitchen. “But I wouldn't mind meeting them again.”

--

[ltleflrt]

Because I regard you essentially as royalty in terms of Destiel fic, can you maybe give us a basic rundown on how to write a fic? Or a detailed one, if you want. Like, what is your process? How do you plan it out? How/when do you pick a title? Because I've tried before to write multi-chapter fics and I just end up giving up on it because I either took too long between updates because ya know life and forgot things or because I didn't plan enough and no longer know what I'm doing.

Hold on hold on hold on...

*walks away for a minute and muppet flails*

Okay, I’m back, and thank you for the sweet compliment! :D

So, my process; I have one!  I didn’t used to think so, because it felt chaotic and without form, but as I’ve started helping other people with their writing I’ve started to see a pattern in how I come up with stories and make them happen.

Obviously the first step is the The Idea.  I get them from all over the place.  I’m a daydreamer, so sometimes they just pop up out of the blue, and in a lot of cases they’re inspired by some other media.  A book, a fic, a movie, a song... I think that’s pretty common.  I also have a tendency of looking at my favorite tropes (and I mean REALLY LOOKING, by consuming any and all of it I can find lol) and thinking to myself, “how can I flip that upside down?”.  

Kiss the Baker was the result of reading all the Gay Panic Dean fics I could find and reading them until I started wondering if there would ever be a universe where Dean didn’t have a gay panic.  

The idea for Satin and Sawdust came from the fact that I’ve written two fics tagged “Dean Thinks He’s Heterosexual” and it made me wonder why I never see any Gay Panic Castiel fics.  

Anyway, ideas come from all over.  And they’re fleeting, so I write them all down.  I have a huge list.  Whenever one of those AU lists comes around on my dash I copy my favorites into my list.  It’s very long lol.  Which is good, because sometimes I’ll come up with an idea like “I want to see Cas be the one who thinks he’s het this time” and get stuck.  Like wtf do I do next?

Answer: I refer back to The List.  Because sometimes I can pick out several of those ideas and smush them together.  I took Carpenter!Dean, and Dean Loves Wearing Panties from the list, and scrolled down until I found Veterinarian AU, and I start trying to connect the dots.

Remember in writing classes in Jr High and High School we were taught to make those bubble charts?  You write something in a bubble, and then branch off bubbles around it?  I do that in my head.  I start making things connect.  I cross out things that won’t fit.  I have a special file for whatever story idea I’m working on and it looks vaguely like an outline because it’s that list of ideas with notes for ideas, or snippets of conversation.  If I chat about it with my friends (almost always @jupiterjames) I’ll copy/paste those conversations into that file.  I’ll list songs... anything that gives me a feel for what’s starting to form.  If I have any title ideas they’ll go in there too.

Speaking of titles, THEY’RE HARD.  I hate them.  Occasionally something will pop in my head before I even start working on the fic, and I swear that angels sing when that happens.  But for the most part I have to brainstorm and brainstorm, and get advise from friends, and I google quotes about themes I think my story will encompass.  It’s a struggle.  My least favorite part of the writing process next to connecting large plot points lol.  But I’ve gotta have a title before I post it, so I’ll have something by the time I’m done with the first chapter.  

Just for funsies, here’s my notes file for Satin and Sawdust.

Anywho, that’s all the developing stuff.  I don’t actually go into the notes file all that much afterwards.  When I have big gaps between chapters I will, plus I’ll re-read everything I’ve written already.  But I hold quite a bit of that junk in my head. If you’re having problems remembering, make the file!  Visit it often!

Believe it or not, at this point, the story is still pretty nebulous.  I’ll usually have several directions the story can take at different junctions, and I don’t think too hard about them until I get there.  I think about my stories in more detail a chapter at a time.  I focus on a single scene, or the small group of scenes that are related enough to put in a single chapter.  I zero in on those details and forget about what’s going to come afterwards.  

Breaking down the larger idea into smaller chunks is the only way I can work myself through a 100k+ beast without going mad.  And honestly, I still drive myself a little crazy.  I have to stop looking at the big picture, or I’ll give up just because the idea is too overwhelming.

Once I’ve got a chapter done, then I take a few days and I start considering the cloudy visions in my head and pluck out the scene I think needs to come next.  It usually takes me 2-4 days of contemplation before I’m ready to sit down and make words happen again.  Writing a 4k-8k chapter takes me 2-3 days.  So between the contemplation break and the actual writing, I take about a week.  

Life definitely gets in the way sometimes.  When I was in the middle of Addicted To You, I had reconstructive surgery on my face.  I was doped up on super strong pain meds and couldn’t wear my glasses for almost a month.  So obviously I took some time off, and I was SO MISERABLE (seriously, don’t break your face, it’s the worst) that I couldn’t even think about the story, much less writing.  When I felt well enough to get back to it I re-read what I had already twice, plus went over my notes file, plus I listened to all the dirty sex songs I could find to get my mind back into the groove for it.  It felt like doing homework, but it was the only way I could remember wtf I was doing.  I’m sure I lost some of my initial plans, but that’s normal with any story I work on.  And it turned out okay lol

And last of all, find someone who’ll let you ramble at them about your stories.  Someone who will genuinely pay attention, not just nod and smile.  I did a lot of writing on my own, but a lot of my Dragon Age and Mass Effect fics wouldn’t exist without @hot-elf being my sounding board and cheerleader.  And same goes for my Supernatural fics and @jupiterjames.  I would probably have written just a tiny fraction of my stories if it weren’t for them.  Chatting about my stories helps me develop my ideas, and keeps me motivated.  When I’m stressed I’ll send a chapter to JJ with just a request to Validate Me! and she always knows how to talk me out of my angst.  I will talk out my ideas with other people as well, but they’ve been the biggest influences on my writing, so THANKS LADIES I LOVE YOU! 

Writing Buddies Are The Best.  

Anyway, that’s about all I have to say about my process.  I hope it answered all your questions and gave you some ideas on how to work on your own stuff.  And if you ever have an idea you want to talk about, feel free to send me chat messages :D